


Consent

by Hiisilija



Series: Consent [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Forced Relationship, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Stockholm Syndrome, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 101,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22127464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiisilija/pseuds/Hiisilija
Summary: After fleeing from the Galra Empire, Lotor has no where to go but the Castle of Lions. He's locked up an monitored.He makes a deal to earn his freedom on the castle.Lotor makes googly eyes enough at the Blue Paladin. He's really only looking for a pastime-- really. Lotor has only selected the most beautiful specimen on the ship.He didn't how much Lance would take from him. He had no idea loving Lance would cost both of them their freedom.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance/Lotor (Voltron)
Series: Consent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592785
Comments: 282
Kudos: 284





	1. Beautiful Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posted work and I am the original author. Thanks for reading it the first time. 
> 
> And thanks for reading it now.

**Lotor**

* * *

Voltron's hesitation was understandable. Lotor hadn't exactly created a trustworthy name for himself. No matter how much reliable intel he gave the paladins, they wouldn't free him of his shackles. It was getting tedious. 

For the hundredth time, Lotor explained his desire to end the war. If the Galra empire was so reliant on quintessence, then that was their key to ending it. If they could acquire those resources without capturing planets, the war would have to end. Lotor had done many experiments to find a sustainable source for quintessence. While he had harvested a pure, deadly strain from his colonies, Lotor had failed to find enough.  However, Lotor couldn't say any of that out loud.  All Lotor could do was explain. He had no choice but to trick Voltron into retrieving the trans-reality comet.

But they still didn't trust him.

Lotor had a piece of information that might gain their trust. If he was remembering right, Pidge was the daughter of the brilliant Sam Holt. Lotor could win the paladins over one by one. This was Lotor's opportunity to crush the Galra under his rule. 

"Hey," a nervous voice greeted him.

Lotor glanced up. The blue paladin was standing in front of him. Lotor hadn't heard him approach. His armor was off for the first time since they'd met. He looked relaxed in his human garments. 

"Hello," Lotor replied. He waited to see what the paladin wanted.

"The mission went well," he said. "I thought you should know that."

Lotor smiled. "You're leaders have already informed me, albeit not as politely."

The paladin stared at his hands, twirling the ends of his jacket in his fingers. _Oh,_ Lotor thought, _He's young._ It was hard to tell who was young and who was not; it didn't always show physically. Lance had looked beautifully preserved when Lotor first laid eyes on him. Lotor contributed Lance's beauty to the Paladin's species. It was _exciting._ Lotor felt a flutter in his stomach. 

"I am sorry about them, they're not..." 

"Trusting?" Lotor guessed. 

The young paladin huffed in amusement. He was staring at Lotor with a reserved curiosity. 

"You don't trust me either."

The paladin smiled. Lotor took that as a _yes_. 

"What is your name, blue paladin?"

"I'm the red paladin." He folded his arms. 

Lotor took a deep breath. Was he being toyed with? "Your uniforms are confusing."

"Good."

Lotor almost smiled. "Does the red paladin have a name?"

"Lance," the young paladin surrendered.

"Why are you here to see me, young Lance?" Lotor asked with his voice soft.

Lance's cheeks flushed red. He averted his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Everyone has made up their mind about you," Lance said. "They're all telling me what to think."

"And... you want me to convince you?" Lotor rose from his crouched position. He took small, controlled steps towards the barrier.

"Well, I don't think that will help my case."

"It might. You should give it a shot."

"Nice try."

"Can you blame me?"

Lance shrugged. 

Lotor leaned down, so their heads were on the same level. "If given the opportunity, I would very much like to convince you."

Lance's eyes widened. He stepped away. His eyes flickered up and down, taking Lotor in. 

Lance smirked. "Thanks for the warning."

Lotor watched him calmly leave. He stared at the paladin as he took the elevator well out of view. Even after Lance left, Lotor found himself staring at the elevator. 

*** * * * ***

The next time Lance visited him, he was wearing his paladin armor. He was alone again. 

"Last time I saw Shiro and Allura they didn't seem to know you had visited me," Lotor said.

Lance removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm. It matted his hair to his forehead. Little beads of sweat dripped down his neck and face. His brow furrowed. 

"Worry not, I told them nothing." 

"This isn't a secret," Lance scoffed. 

Lotor shrugged. "Still, I thought it should be up to you."

Lance pursed his lips. "Thanks."

Lotor returned to his bench, resting his elbows on his knees. He kept his head down, thinking about what to do. He felt like he and Lance connected the last time they spoke. Or he'd paved the way for it to happen, at least. 

"How did the mission go?" Lotor asked. 

"Great," Lance set his helmet down. He ran a hadn't through his sweaty hair. "You were right, or, you were telling the truth... I guess."

"Out of curiosity," Lotor asked. "Should one of my tips be... _inaccurate,_ would the paladins of Voltron write me off as a liar?"

"Oh, almost definitely," Lance smiled.

Lotor must have made a face because Lance burst out laughing. 

"Well, at least you are sure."

"Don't be so down on yourself." Lance twirled his bayard in his hands. "You'll be out of here in only a short hundred years or so."

"I thank you," Lotor's voice dripped with sarcasm "for your kind words of comfort."

"It's what I do best," Lance sighed contently. 

Lance stood there in silence. It didn't seem he had much else to say. 

"I suppose you will head back now?" 

Lance frowned. "You want me to go?" 

"No," Lotor gasped. He stood, meeting Lance on the other side of the barrier. "Had you something else to say?"

"No." Lance picked up his helmet. 

"I hope I didn't just convince you to leave."

"And I hope... You're on our side." Lance departed.

Lotor watched him go.

*** * * * ***

The next time Lance visited him, he was wearing blue robes and animal shoes. He sipped his drink out of his mug. His hair was a mess. 

"Have you ever had a milkshake?"

"I have had many delicacies from many planets."

"But never a milkshake."

"Never a milkshake."

Lance looked at his cup before taking another drink. He licked a white foam from his upper lip. 

Lotor sighed. "You visit a lot, but we never speak about anything."

"That must be really terrible for you." Lance took another sip.

"Nevertheless," Lotor relaxed his shoulders. "I enjoy your company."

Lance nodded. " I enjoy my company too." 

"Right—"

"I am a truly wonderful person."

"You—" Lotor shook his head. His laugh was painful—like Lance forced it out of him. "I'm glad to hear it."

Lance took one last drink before setting the empty cup on the floor. It echoed through the open prison. 

"So, you weren't even going to let me try it?" Lotor wondered.

"I considered it," Lance yawned. "But I didn't have a straw."

Lotor didn't know what a straw was. 

"You can keep the cup." 

Lotor tried to come up with something to say, but Lance rendered him speechless. Lance left him staring at the cup on the floor. By the time he looked up, Lance had left. 

*** * * * ***

The next time Lotor heard the elevator, he rose from his bench with glee. He watched a figure in paladin armor descend upon his cage. Lotor abandoned his joy when he realized it was Shiro, the black paladin who sought his audience. 

"Lotor, you look disappointed," Shiro remarked.

Was he? "I am only tired. It is hard staying in this cell all day."

"It could be much worse."

"I am aware. And I am grateful for the accommodation. My will is strong, I can wait much longer."

"Good, because we're not ready."

Lotor frowned. "Not ready? Not ready to trust me? To let me out?"

Shiro nodded. 

Lotor felt his chest tighten. "I have done all that I can to convince you. I don't know what more you are waiting for."

"To be honest," Shiro explained. "There are too many hold outs among the paladins for me to feel comfortable letting you go."

"And what about you?" Lotor asked. "Are you holding out?"

Shiro shook his head. "No, it's not my decision to make. I need my team to feel comfortable working alongside you."

"But are _you_ comfortable working alongside me?"

Shiro blinked. 

"As the leader," Lotor pointed out. "Do you think your opinion is effecting their own?"

"That's not what I'm here for."

Lotor sighed. "I see." He sat down, resting his legs. "What can I do for you? Perhaps it would be more helpful to provide you intel if I were to look at a map... something to jog my memory." 

Shiro looked away. 

"But that's not what you're here about," Lotor realized. His voice was shocked. 

"No," Shiro mumbled. 

"Well, I am here for anything you might need. I want to help." 

Shiro returned his gaze to Lotor. "After my fight with Zarkon, I woke up in Galra custody." 

Shiro recounted his story, sparing little details to help Lotor follow. But, he noticed, not enough for him to know anything of importance to Voltron. There were a few discrepancies with Shiro's story. As far as Lotor was concerned, the Black Lion didn't have a way to teleport it's pilot outside the cockpit. Shiro should have been vaporized. Lotor focused more on the details of his awakening; purple pods, bright lights, and loud alarms. It sounded like something out of Haggar's lab. 

_Interesting_... 

"Well," Lotor thought. "The room where you awoke doesn't sound like anything from memory. Perhaps Haggar had taken you... She was the one who crafted your arm, was she not?"

"She was."

"Then she might have taken you after your capture to experiment more. It could have caused your headaches... If she touched somewhere other than your arm."

"Other than... You think she messed with my head?"

Lotor's eyes caught on the cup on the ground. More than ever, he wanted to gain their trust. "I would recommend you find yourself in an Altean healing pod as soon as possible." 

Shiro swallowed. "I don't think—"

Shiro had seen the cup on the ground. He picked it up, inspecting it. Lotor wiped the sweat from his palms. He suddenly felt like he was getting caught in some dark secret. He didn't know what the rules were with humans. He didn't know how they aged; only that Lance was young. How protective of him were they? Lotor knew that they were pressuring him in some way, Lance had admitted that during his first visit. Lotor forced himself to relax. He and Lance had done nothing. 

There was no crime in finding Lance beautiful. And there was nothing wrong with wanting his company during his isolation.

"Lance's mug." 

"He must've left it behind." 

Shiro held his breath. "When was—how did..."

Lotor held Shiro's gaze. Shiro's jaw grew tight. "Thank you, for your advice." 

"Anytime."

*** * * * ***

Lotor found himself missing that cup. It's not like it spoke to him. It was something to look at in this dark cell. A nice reminder of the blue-eyed paladin that came to visit. Lotor missed him. Now, with Shiro discovering the cup, it was unlikely he'd see him again. 

Thankfully, that was not the case. 

"Lance!" Lotor called out before he could stop himself. 

"What?" Lance yelled back. He hadn't made it to the cell. 

Lotor groaned. He put his face in his hands. He couldn't believe he broke his composure like that. 

"Nothing," Lotor said once Lance got closer. "My time in this cell has made me tired."

Lance shook his head. "Nah. You were happy to see me, you can't take that back."

"No, I can't." 

Lance was wearing his jacket and blue pants but he looked tense. Lotor offered a faint smile for the paladin, encouraging him to speak his mind. 

"Do you miss your family?" Lance asked, his voice small. 

Lotor laughed. Lance took a step back, embarrassment etching itself onto his face. Lotor held up his hands. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to mock you in any way... I never knew my mother and my father—"

"Is Zarkon," Lance finished. 

"Not the most nurturing parent, as you can imagine." 

Lance bowed his head. 

"Please," Lotor asked gently. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"I have been missing my brothers and my sisters. I am very far away from my home... Where I come from, my people haven't even heard of the Galra."

Lotor's eyes widened. "Wow, how did you find yourself so far from home?" 

"My friends and I—we found one of the Voltron Lions hidden on my planet. It had been there for thousands of years." 

"But..." Lotor thought. "I thought your leader was part Galra? Was I mistaken?" 

"Oh, Keith?" Lance blushed. "Yeah... we didn't know anything about that." 

"It would seem to me," Lotor told him gravely, his apology sincere. "That your planet is not far out of our reach—and that your people are in danger of being taken by the empire." 

Lance's eyes welled up. Lotor wished he could take it back, he did not wish to make Lance despair. This would be the perfect opportunity for Lotor to express his desire to stop the war. Instead, he let the chance slide. He was no longer trying to gain favor with _all_ the paladins. "I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," Lance said. He knelt on the floor. His hand touched the barrier to brace himself. Out of instinct, Lotor gently placed his hand on the barrier. 

Lance rolled back, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. He let his hand fall from the cell wall. Lotor let him linger, dropping it before sitting on the ground. They'd never been this close before. 

"Tell me about your brothers and sisters."

Lance did. He changed from looking sad to joyful, content, and fearful. Lotor wished he could grab Lance's hand to comfort him. 

"I feel bad for people without siblings," Lance said, looking at Lotor. "You really have none?"

Lotor put his hand on the barrier. Lance met him, the faintest inch of magic keeping them apart. "My mother died giving birth to me. And my father, well... Let's be thankful there aren't a lot of his children running around."

"If you say so," Lance's voice cracked. "I don't think being his kid is such a curse."

"How so?" Lotor asked.

"Well, all of his children _I_ know... they aren't half bad."

Lotor smiled. Lance seemed intrigued by his smile. Maybe he was seeing through what the others couldn't. Of all the paladins, Lance was the only one who came to speak to him as a person. Lance was the only one to give him a chance. And Lotor knew, if the others just tried, they would grow to trust him too. 

"Lance, I'm glad you were the one to come talk to me."

Lance put his hand down. Lotor reluctantly followed his lead. "Not Allura? Or Shiro? Or... even Keith—"

"Lance... I am glad it was _you._ " 

Lance's eyes darted to the floor. Even through his blush, he appeared sad. Did he not believe Lotor? "Right, because I'm _so_ entertaining."

"You are more than entertaining. You make very pleasant company, Lance. You are an exquisite creature."

Lance stared at him in shock. "I thought—"

Lotor laughed. "I must ask you to think better of your friends, for allowing you to believe otherwise."

Lance grimaced. His shoulders grew tight. He clenched his fists. Lotor struck a nerve with that line. 

"Has no one told you that you are beautiful?" Lotor asked. The pity in his voice was almost real. 

"Of course, they have!" Lance declared loudly. His confident demeanor faltered as quickly as it had arrived. "My mother has...but—"

Lotor laughed softly again. Lance chuckled in response, his shoulders growing loose where he sat.

Lotor leaned forward, putting his face as close to the barrier as he could. Lance followed his lead—their noses barely a hair away. "I mean, really, truly beautiful. Not in a motherly way, but as a figure of beauty; something to be admired."

Lance's eyes were welling up and his cheeks bright red. He believed it. And he should. He was easily the most enchanting of all the paladins—of everyone on this ship. His dark blue eyes shone brightly against his soft, brown skin. He was well built, with sturdy muscles supporting every limb like beautiful decorations. His nose was small and pointing up at the slightest angle. It all made Lotor's heart ache. This wasn't a creature that Lotor wanted to meet for a night, this was someone Lotor would be pleased to worship for a lifetime.

"No one," Lance whispered. His voice was quivering like music.

"I am ashamed of all the beings in the universe..." Lotor leaned away, ordering his voice to be steady and strong. "But I am honored to be the first."

Lance gushed. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. "Lotor you... you are very attractive, too—also..."

"Thank you," Lotor smiled. 

They sat in comfortable silence until Lance regained his usual calm. 

"I hope I had made you feel better about your family."

Lance's brows creased. His head cocked to the side with a slight smile. "Yeah, you did." 

"Among other things," Lotor guessed.

"Among other things." Lance gathered himself and rose. Lotor stayed on the floor, gazing up at him.

When Lance left that time, he kept his gaze on Lotor for the whole ride up. Lotor had a feeling he would see him soon.


	2. Training Lessons

**Lance**

* * *

"And why do you think we can trust him?" Shiro asked. "You didn't before."

Lance rolled his eyes. "You don't know that. I didn't say anything about how I felt about him before."

"So you have always been ready to trust him?" Shiro asked. His voice was tense, the sound of his frustration preparing to cut with its razor-sharp blades. 

"No," Lance stated with pride. "I didn't. _Now_ , I do." 

"He changed your mind?" Shiro smacked away Allura's gentle hand. She was trying to calm him down. Lance didn't need her to. He could handle himself. "You let him convince you?"

"No. _I_ convinced me," Lance growled. 

"So you haven't been visiting him?" Shiro demanded. 

Lance's jaw dropped. He didn't know Shiro... He thought Lotor promised to keep it a secret! 

"You left your mug outside his cell, _Lance._ " Shiro pressed a palm to his head. 

Coran stepped forward. "Shiro, perhaps you should take a—"

"I'm fine," Shiro snapped. He clearly wasn't. His knuckles were white. His brow was twitching; his forehead sweaty. 

Coran looked at Lance with obvious hesitation. "Lance, Lotor could have hurt you."

"No," Lance insisted. "He is in a cell. He couldn't even touch me—"

"Wait, wait, wait." Hunk held his hands up dramatically. "So you went to go see Lotor? Are you serious?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Pidge asked sounding betrayed. 

Lance looked at the floor. _Because he was kind._

Shiro stepped back into the conversation, taking control. "Everyone, _enough_."

Everyone backed away, even Allura. Shiro stepped towards Lance slowly. Lance resisted the urge to crumble in on himself. He would not cower. Shiro stared at him with empty, calculating eyes. Lance felt like all the eyes in the room were watching him—and they probably were. 

"Are you sure?" Shiro asked gently, so quiet the others could barely hear. 

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes."

Shiro looked at the floor with an odd expression on his face—one Lance hadn't seen before. Shame?

"I'm sorry I yelled."

Lance smiled. "Hey—" He punched Shiro's arm. "It's okay."

Lance could feel the tension in the room slip away. Hunk grabbed Lance's shoulder encouragingly. "You don't have to keep secrets from us, you know that?"

All that Lance could think was that Lotor found him beautiful. Lotor saw a value in him that the others didn't. It's why Lance went down there in the first place. He wanted to form his own opinion—make his own decisions. And he met the first person in the universe who found him beautiful. _I must ask you to think better of your friends, for allowing you to believe otherwise._

Lance sighed. "Of course, I know that, buddy."

"You know, when you think about it," Hunk beamed. "There's a lot of great benefits to befriending Lotor. He's the heir to the throne," Hunk started counting on his fingers. "has knowledge of the galra and their society, makes those crazy weapons that kicked out butts that one time—" Hunk froze. "Wait, he's not gonna do that again, is he?"

He looked at Lance. Lance shook his head.

"Then we're good!" Hunk declared. 

"He could provide us with a lot of intel," Pidge said, looking at Lance. Lance returned her gaze with eagerness, pleading with her to back him up. Pidge smiled. "I'm convinced."

Allura shook her head. "Everybody, wait. We can't just trust Lotor on a whim! He's galra—and not just that—Zarkon's son! He attacked us, Hunk. And Pidge, he tricked us into retrieving the trans-reality comet!"

Lance frowned. "I thought you were over this, Allura."

"Over _what_ _?"_ Allura challenged. 

"Your—your blind hatred for the galra? What happened? Keith left and now you can freely hate them _all?"_ Lance yelled.

"I—" Allura looked shocked. "That is not what this is about. I don't trust Lotor. That man has done nothing but make excuses since the moment he arrived here—and he's given us nothing of importance." 

Lance marched to the door, ignoring the protests behind him. "Lotor saved our lives—Keith's life. Give him time."

*** * * * ***

Lance stared at the little cell as the elevator descended. He had a favor to ask of Lotor, but he was afraid of breaking what little they had. Would Lotor change his mind? Would he decide Lance wasn't worth it? It had surprised Lance when Lotor said he was grateful for his presence, but he didn't dare to think Lotor was looking at him in any romantic way. Why would he? The only person Lance has grown to like—to care for so much it hurt—was Keith. Lance was used to his feelings going unrequited. He was adept at reading the subtle, unconfirmed signs Keith was too afraid to show. But Lotor just _said it._ Like he wasn't afraid to ask for what he wanted.

Lance could give up Keith today and have Lotor tomorrow. He could have a shot at a real relationship, with someone who appreciates Lance. He could be with someone _unafraid_ of holding his hand. 

Lance's feelings for Keith were confusing. Most days, he didn't like to acknowledge them; not even in his mind. But here he was, trying to figure out what Keith was to him once again. 

Lance's feelings for Keith took him by surprise. It started with little jabs and competition. From the start, Lance had an unusual interest in Keith. Eventually, Keith returned that interest in kind. Their competition to outdo each other turned to a striking physical attraction—for Lance, at least. Lance remembered the moment Keith pinned Lance to the mat, as he always did, his helmet off and his hair almost dripping. Lance had this moment of looking at Keith where he thought _he's very cute._ That attraction blossomed into an unbreakable bond—a bond build by their interest in each other. It felt like the embers of a fire, with low heat crackling in his heart. Those embers turned into a raging fire. Keith had become a pain so unbearable Lance couldn't go another day the way they were. 

Keith walked onto the bridge that day and told them he was leaving. Lance knew Keith and Shiro were fighting, but he never thought he'd leave him. 

But _Lotor_. Lance caught his breath just thinking about him. In a few short weeks, Lotor had become a volcanic force in Lance's heart—stirring intense heat and desire, unlike anything Lance had ever known. It was an exciting fire mixed with the slightest, but strongest, hint of fear. Lance wanted so _desperately_ to be loved. 

Lance wasted no time once the elevator touched the floor. Lotor was leaning back in his cell, watching Lance approached with relaxed suave. Once he saw the look on Lance's face, he jumped up with haste. "Lance? Is everything alright?"

"I need something from you," Lance panted. 

Lotor touched the barrier. "What?"

"I need you to give us something big—" Lance panted. "Something like the thing you mentioned before."

"What do you mean?"

"Something... dangerous. Whatever secret you have that you can't even confirm—something to convince the other Paladins." Lance touched the glass. 

Lotor bit his lip. Lance could never tell what he was thinking. "No."

"No?" Lance dropping his hand. "What do you mean, _no?"_

"I mean, I will not put you in danger over a _maybe_."

"That's not your call to make," Lance whispered. "I don't need protecting. I am a paladin of Voltron." 

"I understand that," Lotor pleaded. "But the galra have secrets that are not to be messed with. You... your position may be respectable, and you, talented—and, obviously, your skills as a pilot have improved dramatically—"

"Excuse me?" Lance scoffed.

Lotor looked confused. 

"So you call me incapable and insult my skills as a pilot," Lance counted. "I am trying to _help_ you Lotor."

"I did not mean to insult you," Lotor apologized. "I was only pointing out that the flight patterns of the red lion have dramatically changed from how they used to be."

"Oh?" Lance asked. He knew that this must be from when he took over the red lion from Keith. But Lotor didn't have to know that, not yet. "How so?"

Lotor sighed in defeat. "The red lion used to be a reckless, unpredictable beast of amazing strength; something to be feared amongst all pilots of the universe." Lotor sat down. "And now, all that power and speed has become a controlled machine—a device which knows it's strength and agility. It flies, not on impulse, but with learned skill. You have become far more dangerous, Lance."

Lance blushed. "Then tell me about the mission."

Lotor grunted. "You can't always get anything you want from me. You realize that?" 

Lance shrugged with delight. "We'll see about that."

Lotor grimaced, but he didn't look upset. "I have the location of a maximum security facility. It is heavily guarded, constantly surveyed, and highly equipped with weaponry. Within this facility, there are dozens—possibly hundreds of the greatest minds of the known universe. Individuals deemed too valuable to be exterminated."

Lance stopped breathing. They had the opportunity to save hundreds of captives; Lance couldn't pass that up. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because," Lotor said. "I had discovered the existence of the prisoners first. The galra relocate them from facility to facility routinely. The most important are evacuated first and the rest join later. The existence of the facility aroused suspicion, but I was never sure." Lotor stood as close to the barrier as possible, looking down on Lance with sorrow. "I couldn't send you in there, not if I wasn't sure."

"Lotor," Lance whispered. "I need to know where they are."

Lotor shook his head. "They will have started moving by now. You'll never get there in time."

"Let us try," Lance argued. "If they have started moving, then they will have less guards."

"No, they will have more."

"I can get you out of this cell," Lance pointed out. 

"Or you will trap me here forever. If you die—if anyone is even hurt—this will be my future."

Lance walked away, not sure of what to do. 

*** * * * ***

He returned to the bridge. "Lotor has agreed to give us the location of a highly secure facility. One that moves its prisoners on a rotation—so he wasn't sure they would be there. It's a risk, but we could save hundreds of high-value prisoners."

"Lance!" Pidge exclaimed, "Did he say what the rotation was called? The project? Anything?"

"No."

"Pidge?" Allura asked. "What's the matter."

"I think—I think my dad could be on that base." Pidge started typing on her keypad, bringing up so much information Lance didn't know how she could sort through it all. 

"Then we'll go to Lotor," Shiro decided. "We'll get as many details as we can and cross-reference what Pidge knows with his information."

Pidge looked up from her screen, almost in shock. "We could save my dad."

Shiro smiled. "We could save your dad."

*** * * * ***

It took hours of convincing, but they set Lotor free from his cell. They'd had the greatest victory and the worst defeat. They were all exhausted. Matt and Pidge were devastated. Shiro was fairly distraught as well. 

But Lance? Lance was relieved. 

He knew it was selfish. Of course, he loved Pidge and Matt. He wanted to find Sam Holt. But Lance was too high on his victory. 

Lance jumped, seeing Lotor on the training deck. He was so used to seeing him in his cell it was unnerving. Now, Lotor was a real figure in Lance's world. He was no longer confined to a place where Lance could visit him whenever he wanted, and only when he wanted. 

Lance braced his hands on the table, turning away from Lotor. 

"You seem surprised to see me out."

Lance laughed breathlessly. "I didn't think I would be. It's what I wanted."

Lotor met him by the table, standing so close but not touching him. His hair cascaded effortlessly down his back, hanging over a single shoulder as he leaned against the table. They'd been this close before, but Lance's heart was freaking out. 

"If it helps, I am terrified to be by you," Lotor whispered. 

"Really?" Lance asked. Their voices were so quiet—like they were keeping something delicate and sacred between them. "You can't tell."

"I know what I want," Lotor breathed. "And I never let fear stand in my way."

Lotor held his hand up, presenting it to Lance in a strange fashion. Was this a galra ritual he wasn't aware of? No, Lotor was holding his hand up to the barrier between them. Lance delicately raised his hand, touching his fingertips to Lotor's hand. Lotor's breath caught. His cheeks flushed blue. Lotor closed his eyes and folded his hand over Lance's. "You're skin is soft."

Lance swallowed. He was so nervous, more than he'd ever been before. It was insane; he felt like a defenseless child standing next to Lotor. Their visits these past few weeks had made Lance hyper-aware of how small he was next to Lotor. Lotor had a way of making him feel so valuable and fragile at the same time. Lotor was so experienced, he was tall and beautiful—with over ten-thousand years of experience. And yet, that magnificent creature wanted Lance. It was intoxicating. 

Lance couldn't think of a way to express this. _Thank you_ would have been more than a little awkward. Lance didn't want to sound too needy. 

Lance took a deep breath, closing his eyes. It was nice holding Lotor's hand. Lance felt a shallow breath on his knuckles. Lotor raised his fist, kissing the skin with hot lips. Lance opened his eyes. Lotor looked so hot like that. His eyes were bright yellow and intense but darkened by something Lance had never seen before. Lance swayed on his feet a little. 

Lotor's free hand reached around his back, touching him so gently he barely felt it—just the slightest sensation to send electricity through his body. 

Lance gasped. "L—Lotor..."

He released Lotor's hand, resting it against Lotor's chest. He could feel his heartbeat, just as erratic as his own. It was comforting, in a way. Lotor was just a freaked out as he was. But that also meant that Lotor's body was pulsing with the same electricity. Lotor was feeling the same dangerous urges; the same intense desire.

Lotor covered Lance's hand with his. He flattened the hand on lance's back to guide him forward. Their bodies almost pressed together—only held apart by Lance's hand keeping Lotor at the smallest distance. Lotor's forehead touched his. Lotor's breath was heavy, his chest starting to heave. Lance's mouth was open. He didn't know how long it had been that way, but he didn't think he could breathe if he closed it. 

Lotor leaned in to kiss him. This was the moment Lance had to decide. Had he already gone too far? Was he really going to throw away something he had that was so _sweet_ for Lotor? Maybe the fact that Lance's feelings were so intense meant that they were stronger. This was the moment. He could give up Keith and have Lotor today. To his own surprise, Lance leaned away from the prince. "No..."

Lotor growled, deep and primal. He gently turned it into a deep hum. He opened his eyes, the yellows small and his beautiful purple eyes. His eyes were just slightly darker than Keith's. 

Lotor turned Lance's hand off his chest, onto his own. His arm was bent oddly to lay flat against his ribs, but it didn't hurt. Lotor pushed his hand into his chest until he could feel his heartbeat. His arm wrapped around Lance's back, pinning him in Lotor's firm grip. Lance felt like Lotor was crushing him.

"You feel that?" Lotor growled. 

Lance nodded hastily. He understood what Lotor was saying; Lance wanted this too. 

"What is it you're holding onto, my young paladin?" Lotor slurred. He was drunk on Lance, a fact that filled Lance with excitement and emotion.

"Nobody," Lance answered too quickly. 

"I see," Lotor panted, pulling Lance against him and tangling a hand in his hair. Lance's hand was finally free to roam where he pleased. He gripped Lotor's shoulder for balance. He hadn't paid attention to where his other hand was—it was resting low on Lotor's hip. Much lower than Lance would have preferred. _God, why couldn't he just kiss him?_

"Lance, sweet Lance—" Lotor broke away from the push-and-pull game they were playing with their lips to whisper in Lance's ear. "Are you pledged to someone?"

 _Pledged?_ Lance shook his head. "No," he gasped into Lotor's ear. His knees felt weak. 

"Hm," Lotor bit Lance's earlobe, sucking it into his mouth and biting quickly before releasing.

Lance's hand touched his ear reflexively, and he almost lost his balance. Lotor was so tall and pulling him so hard, he couldn't stand upright without him anymore.

"Would it be easier if I made you?" Lotor offered, his voice almost begging. "If I didn't give you a choice?" 

Lance nodded. _What was he doing?_ "Yes."

Lance's jaw was trembling so much. Lotor placed his thumb on Lance's lower lip, pulling it down. Lotor's hand returned to Lance's hair, holding his head harsher than before. 

Lance pushed his hands against Lotor, to see if he was serious. Lotor didn't budge—he wasn't going anywhere. Lance whined, grabbing onto Lotor's shoulders for dear life. 

When Lotor finally kissed him, it was more than Lance had anticipated. It didn't end the hunger, but stirred it and strengthened it. Lotor gave into that hunger, kissing him harshly, their mouths pressed so hard it hurt. Lotor spun Lance towards the table. His lower back pressed painfully into it. Lotor tipped Lance onto the table, his hands both holding him down and finding a way beneath his shirt. Lance's body felt hot against Lotor's. His arms had a mind of their own—cupping Lotor's face and caressing his waist while they kissed. 

Somehow, they slowed. Lotor's lips grew swollen with burst blood vessels, even scrapped where Lance had bitten him. His pupils were blown wide, the purple gone. His perfect hair was a wreck, dangling all over Lance's face. Lance knew he had to look so much worse. 

"So perfect," Lotor mumbled, his eyes tracing every corner of his face. 

Lance could only nod. He was so out of breath.

"Say nothing," Lotor advised, gasping and still running his hands along the length of Lance's body. "Now, back to your room. Don't say a word."

Lance obeyed, every muscle in his body shaking. 

*** * * * ***

Lance didn't know how to process what happened. His brain flipped from thinking it was the most amazing, encompassing kiss in existence to... something he couldn't identify. Lance felt the smallest bit of shame at kissing Lotor so intensely, in the weapons room, no less. What if the other's had walked in? If they found out now, what would they think of Lance?

So he decided not to think about it.

Lance could hear the blood pounding in his ears. His hair was damp with sweat. His mouth tasted like metal. He was just about ready to leave the training deck when he sensed a presence over his shoulder. His skin tingled and his neck hairs stood on end.

On instinct, he swung around, raising his Bayard in the form of a gun and blocking a sword.

Lotor stood above him, wielding the gun, his eyes malicious.

Lance strained against the full might of Lotor and his sword. "Wh—" Lotor attacked again before Lance could finish.

Lotor moved at a terrifying pace, Lance sidestepping and dodging as fast as he could. No matter what Lance did, he couldn't get ahead. Lotor wasn't trying to slap Lance around, he was trying to defeat him. He was trying to _attack_ him. Was he betraying them? No, that didn't seem right. 

"That's—" Lance groaned. "Enough! Lotor!"

Lance adjusted his hold on his Bayard, aiming to fire when Lotor knocked it out of his hands. Lotor's sword hit Lance's ribs with the flat side. Lance gagged, his ribs aching instantly.

"No, Lance," Lotor growled."You will never decide when a fight is enough!" 

Lance stumbled, falling on the ground. Lotor put his sword away, climbing on top of Lance with deadly speed, keeping him pinned.

"Your enemy will," Lotor finished.

"I thought we weren't enemies," Lance mocked, then gasped when Lotor pressed down harder.

It was weird, Lotor was using his hips to keep Lance pinned, but there was something... Wrong. Something was off. Before Lance could decide what that was, Lotor stood and offered his hand. Lance froze, his face flushed with embarrassment. He raised a trembling hand and accepted, trying to understand what had just happened.

"Always have your guard up," Lotor advised.

"I didn't even know you were in the room," Lance pouted. "I was training long-distance—"

"Don't make excuses, Lance. You are a fine sharpshooter, but what will happen when a galra sneaks passed your guard? Will they take you as easily as I did?"

Lance didn't answer. His heart was still beating hard from fear and confusion. Lotor looked amused. Lance pushed passed the galra, rushing down the hall. He was both insulted and terrified. How could Lotor do that? 

"I could train you," Lotor presented.

He didn't seem to find anything wrong with the situation. Lance had to physically restrain himself from scoffing. He understood the message Lotor was trying to give him. Combine that with his weird speech about keeping Lance safe, Lance knew exactly what he was thinking. He just didn't like it. Their alliance with Lotor was tentative as it was. Lance had staked everything on Lotor—the trust and respect of his team, for one thing. He had to make it work with Lotor here. That included making Lotor as comfortable as possible. Lance kept his mouth shut. 

"You shouldn't plant your feet so far apart, you are not your galra friend, you cannot move so quickly." Lotor put his hands behind his back respectfully. "And stay on your toes, I can see you are trying, but you fall back on your heels often."

Lance wanted to laugh. "Are you saying I should fire a gun on my toes?" 

Lotor smiled. "Of course not, but your hand to hand need to be quicker. If you were big, like Shiro, you could afford to plant your feet in a hand to hand fight. But up against a stronger opponent, you need to play to your current advantage."

Lance realized that he had unconsciously taken a path to his room. He choked; he was leading Lotor to his bedroom. Lance watched as Keith's old door approached. Would it open for him? Could Lance make it? What would Lotor do if he couldn't? Lance could feel it deep in his gut: he needed to get to the room, lock the doors, and pound on them for help until someone came.

"And," Lotor continued—disturbing anticipation leaking into his tone. "Perhaps the most important thing—"

Lance tensed, leaning left. They'd passed Keith's door already. Lance had fought against his every instinct. He would not do it again.

" _Never_ let down your guard."

Lance lunged, his arms extended to his room. The door opened and he slipped inside. Lotor jammed the top half of his body in the door, prying them open and slipping inside. Lotor slammed his fist on the lock. Lance heard a sickening boom as the door locked. _What had he done?_

Lance was crying from the fear, terrified of what Lotor would do to him. How did he say no? What if Lotor went to the paladins and told him what happened? Lance couldn't let that happen. Lance balled up his fist and swung for Lotor's throat. Lotor caught his hand, sending an excruciating shock up his arm. Lance felt his body spin without his permission; his sense of gravity disrupted. He didn't know which way was up until he hit the floor. He landed with his stomach on the floor, his legs pressed together with his torso twisted awkwardly to his side. Lance's cheek pressed uncomfortably into the cold ground. Lotor pinned his wrists above his head with one hand. His other hand pushed against Lance's knees. Lotor used his full body weight to hold Lance to the ground, his hips pushing into him so hard it felt vulgar.

"Always keep your guard up, or something terrible will happen, and you will have to deal with the consequences," Lotor warned.

Lotor stood up then, unlocking the doors and striding out with poise—leaving a trembling, terrified Lance on the floor.


	3. Two Weeks Too Late

**Keith**

* * *

Keith stepped off his ship to a welcoming group of four Paladins. Pidge was the first to react, crying out his name and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her feet dangled off the ground and kicked in the air. Everyone else followed—everyone but Shiro. Shiro kept his distance. Keith assumed he was waiting for his turn to greet him properly. Keith made a pouty face. Shiro frowned and shook his head. _Something was wrong._ Eventually, they backed off, allowing Keith space to breathe. Shiro was still looking at him sadly. Keith was going to ask him what was wrong as soon as they were alone. 

Keith looked among the paladins and Coran. He didn't see Lance. He must've been too busy to come and see him—or he was on a mission. 

"So... _Lotor?"_ Keith asked awkwardly. He'd hoped to get his mission out of the way quickly. That way, he could spend more time with his friends. 

Hunk rolled his eyes. "And the _hellos_ are over. Welcome back, Keith."

"Keith?" Allura asked. "I know this whole situation is tense, but can we please catch up before discussing this?"

Keith pinched his lips. "I—I want to. But the Blade needs to know what he's been—"

"Keith?" Shiro interrupted. Everyone stopped to look at Shiro. Shiro's ears turned red at all the attention. "Can I talk to you? In _private—"_

"Yes," Keith answered before he could finish his question. 

It was like a bomb had gone off in the room. The paladins were hurt and insulted that Keith and Shiro were wandering off so soon. Not Pidge, though. Pidge's eyes were flickering between them, trying to figure out the mystery. Shiro left, motioning for Keith to follow. 

"I'll..." He pointed at Shiro. He waved half-hearted goodbyes to the paladins. He ran out the door, trying to catch up to Shiro. "I'll be right back!"

Even though he was in the distance, he could hear Pidge, "He's not coming back..."

Shiro dragged him away to a hallway, not stopping until they were well out of earshot. Once Shiro visibly relaxed, Keith wasted no time.

"What's wrong? What did Lotor do?"

Shiro shook his head. "This isn't about Lotor, it's about Lance," Shiro said. "He wants to talk to you."

"Then... Why isn't he here?"

"Well, he didn't—he didn't _ask_ to talk to you." Shiro cleared his throat. "He hasn't been himself. These past two weeks he's been on edge. The slightest thing stresses him out and he... He's mentioned you in passing, but I know he meant it as more than that," Shiro explained. "Can you... Can you please find out what's going on?"

Keith _would_. "So he's, what? He's got a lot on his plate?" Keith wondered helplessly. What could've caused this change?

"I don't know... I think—" Shiro bit his lip. "I can't say for sure. But he's not sleeping. He's training all the time. He keeps looking over his shoulder, even when the two of us are speaking alone." 

Keith swallowed, almost sick with worry. Lance had shown his more nervous sides in the weeks leading up to Keith official move to the Blade of Marmora. He'd come to Keith for help about it. Apparently, he'd gone to no one else since. "I shouldn't have left."

Shiro sighed. He grabbed Keith's shoulder, his earnest grip threatening to leave bruises. "This isn't your fault. If anything—it's mine. He's under _my_ protection. I'm letting my own issues get in the way."

"You're own issues?" Keith asked. His heart was thumping hard with every panicked scenario that came to his head. He tried to come up with a joke and laugh it off. "You have _issues?_ I haven't been gone that long! Why is everybody falling apart?"

Shiro laughed. "No, Keith I'm fine. I just got distracted. Coran has been trying to find the source of these headaches. I've tried altean medication as well as—I don't know—their natural herbs."

"You've been getting headaches?"

"Not bad ones. Just, kinda long ones. They've been getting closer together."

Keith placed his hand on Shiro's.

"It's fine. I can still fight with them, even. It's just annoying," Shiro laughed. "Like Lance."

Keith dropped his hand. 

"Sorry," Shiro winced. "Bad joke."

"No, bad timing," Keith grimaced. "Shiro... this _is_ my fault _._ "

Shiro shook his head. " _No—_ " 

"You don't understand," Keith cried. "I made him promises, Shiro."

Shiro pulled Keith in. Keith buried his head in Shiro's shoulder. Keith let the tears fall as Shiro's arms wrapped around him. "I messed up. I should've said more—or taken more chances. I should have—" Keith sobbed. 

"He's fine," Shiro assured him. "I'm sure Lance is _fine._ I'm worried about him, yes. But you're overreacting; you miss home." 

Keith trembled. "No. I missed my shot. Lance isn't—he's not like me. Everything we had was at _my_ pace; to make me comfortable. He was miserable. I know he wanted more."

"You're remembering things wrong," Shiro whispered. "He was happy. The both of you were. We all were, watching you two idiots squabble all the time."

Keith laughed. "Well, I'm glad everybody else had fun."

"I need you to remember this: you and Lance moved at the pace you were comfortable with. And I am so glad for it. You took something that could have been good and turned it into something amazing." Shiro pat his back. "You didn't miss your chance. You know Lance better than that." 

Keith pulled away, wiping the tears off his face. "I'm being so stupid." 

Shiro rolled his eyes. "I think you're acting just like any other eighteen-year-old with his heart aching."

"My heart does not ache," Keith snapped. 

"Of course not," Shiro reassured him with a mocking tone. "You're a steel cage with no emotions whatsoever."

"Exactly," Keith pouted. 

Shiro snickered. He turned, staring out the window into the passing star system. Keith had seen over a hundred star systems up close now—all like this one in some way. He was grateful he could still find beauty in things like this. He wanted to be an explorer; now space was his home. He found to defend it with his life every day. Keith slowly pulled himself together. 

"Maybe we all just need a break in the sun," Shiro dreamed.

"I know I do," Keith agreed.

Shiro sighed taking in the passing lights with a wistful look on his face. The peace died. His eyes were heavy with burden.

"So where is he?" 

"He locked himself in his room after the last mission," Shiro told him, his eyes unfocused. "I didn't tell him you were coming."

*** * * * ***

Keith even thought, maybe, things between Keith and Lance would change but then he left Voltron to join the blades. He'd ruined everything, whether Shiro thought so or not. Keith used to blame Shiro, in part. Keith spent his whole life looking for a place where he belonged. Shiro knew that. Yet he forced Keith to choose between Voltron and the blades—between who he was and his friends. In the beginning, Keith was sure he'd made the right decision. Now, not so much. Maybe Shiro was trying to force him to choose his family—Voltron. Keith chose wrong.

Now Lance was falling apart. Lance was strong, but Keith wondered what he had abandoned him to endure. What could've made Lance so anxious?

*** * * * ***

Keith was in Lance's empty room. The bed sheets, which were usually neat and pressed to garrison standard, were crumpled and thrown in the corner. In the pile were Lance's robes, lion slippers, and a bunch of other things. Keith turned around, scanning the room for more. One of his gaming systems was smashed to pieces. His entire assembly—along with all of his converters—was useless now.

Shiro said that it wasn't that bad... Keith had no real reason to panic. But this was unnerving. Lance didn't act like this. Something must've happened. Keith continued his search around the castle, worry pooling in his gut until it became dread. Why now?

Lotor was on the castle of lions, now... That couldn't be a coincidence.

Keith's breath caught when he found him. Lance was staring at the ceiling in the paladin's lounge. Keith sat down on the opposite side of the circle, hoping not to scare him. 

"I missed you at the welcoming party," Keith said. 

"A party, huh?" Lance responded, but his heart wasn't in it. "No wonder you missed me." 

Lance kept his dead gaze at the ceiling.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Keith asked.

"What makes you think that?" Lance replied, his voice completely monotone.

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll leave you to it, then." 

"Keith?" Lance whispered. "Can I ask you a question?"

Keith smiled, "Yes, anything."

"Like, with the Blade," Lance flipped himself over, resting on his elbows and forearms. He looked a little cute, like a teenage boy reading magazines in his room. His ankles were even crossed. But Lance looked so tired and distraught Keith forced himself to look beyond it. "Are you ever afraid that you'll mess up, like, in combat?"

"Why?" Keith wondered. "Did something happen?" 

Lance cocked his head, "That's not what I asked you." 

Keith sighed. "I used to be terrified. But.. not anymore."

"What happened? What changed?" Lance asked. His hand was reaching out 

"I became terrified, because, when you mess up, it's over, and sometimes people get hurt," Keith explained. "But being afraid of it... It was just going to make it more likely."

"So what did you do?" Lance begged.

"I... I trained. I learned to fight, for every scenario. The more capable I am, the more I can handle dangerous situations."

Lance stared at him, his face unreadable. "But, you have the galra training for that."

Keith frowned. "Yeah, the blade is pretty good at stuff like this. Do—do you want to train? With them—with me?"

"No," Lance swung his feet around, standing up. Keith rose to meet him.

"What—Lance?" Keith asked timidly.

"I'll be okay," Lance walked to the door. "I've been training already. I just..." Lance sighed and left.

*** * * * ***

Lance had been a little off, but Keith felt much more relaxed after he had seen him. Shiro just made it sound like Lance's entire life was imploding, but it wasn't. Lance was getting nervous about his fighting skills. It happened to everyone. The gaming console must've broken—Lance dropped it or something. And the pile of clothes and bed sheets... _laundry._ God, Keith was such an idiot. 

The next time Keith saw Lance, he was returning from the training deck. He was sweatier than his normal workout. His muscles were notably tense. His back was stiff.

"Lance!"

Lance turned, his expression neutral. "Hey, Keith."

Keith ran to catch up, only stopping once the two of them were shoulder to shoulder. He almost tripped when he saw Lance up close. His forehead was smeared with poorly cleaned blood. He had a line of bruising from his jaw to his collarbone. He held one of his arms over his chest—protecting his ribs. Keith looked away. Didn't the bots have protocols to prevent this?

 _Lance must've turned them off._ Keith thought. 

"It's kinda weird," Lance said. "Seeing you around the ship."

Keith shrugged. "It's kinda weird _being_ on the ship."

"But I'm glad," Lance exhaled.

Keith grabbed Lance's hand. It was covered in callouses that weren't there before. He was sweaty and dirty and his skin was rough. Lance squeezed back lightly. When he looked down at their intertwining fingers, he turned white as a sheet. He ripped his hand away, holding it to his chest defensively. He started walking faster, almost running away from Keith. 

"Lance!" Keith called, his hand still lingering. 

"It's fine!" Lance yelled; he sounded so _angry._

"No," Keith followed him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Okay? I'm sorry. Will you calm down?"

Lance shook his head. His hands slowly lowered from his ears. 

"What is going on with you?" Keith whispered so he wouldn't startle him. 

"Nothing!" Lance flinched anyway. "You can't just—you don't get to come back here and have things be the same way."

Keith nodded. He wiped away a tear before Lance could see. Lance had enough on his plate—he shouldn't have to deal with Keith's emotions right now. 

"I know," Keith agreed. His voice was quiet and low, his hands held up in surrender. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Lance didn't seem satisfied. He wasn't trying to run away anymore. He stooped, looking at Keith out of the corner of his eye. Keith put his hand on Lance's shoulder, his heart hurting when Lance shrugged it away. Keith folded his arms to stop himself from reaching out again. 

"I'm sorry I left you, Lance."

Lance scoffed. "You didn't leave _me_."

Keith frowned. "I—"

"You left all of us," Lance finished. He started to walk again. "And stop pretending like you hurt me more than anyone else. You _didn't._ I don't care about you any more than they do."

Keith swallowed. _That's not true._ "Why are you saying this? What is happening?" 

"Just, _don't touch me._ "

"I won't."

"Good." Lance ran his hands through his hair. "Good."

Keith bowed his head. "I have to go back to the blades soon," he mourned. "I know it's soon, but I was only sent here to check up on Lotor. I have less than two days before I go back."

Lance groaned. "That really sucks to hear right now."

"I know."

"You couldn't have waited, like, twenty minutes or something?" Lance whined. 

Keith smiled. "How about this, I'll go see Lotor, Shiro, and Allura, and then... we'll meet in the pool? Just like old times."

Lance gagged. "No, I don't think that's such a good idea right now."

"Okay, that's fine." Keith turned to him. There was a bruise on his back to, just below the neckline. How many more where there? "Food? A movie?"

Lance grunted. "I don't think I can eat and... I'm not in the mood for a movie." 

Keith was struggling to come up with more ideas. He got the feeling that Lance didn't want him around. Was he trying to get rid of Keith for good? Or did he really just want to be alone? Keith wasn't going to leave him alone, no matter what. Even if Keith was the source of Lance's pain, he was being so self-destructive Keith couldn't leave him alone. He had disabled the safety features on the training bots—he wasn't thinking clearly.

"Lance?" Keith asked gently. "Do you wanna fly?"

Lance beamed—his troubles almost forgotten. "Yes, Keith—" Lance stopped, his hand in the air, reaching for Keith. He ripped it back to his chest. But he was smiling again immediately. "Meet me in the hangar?"

Keith nodded. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

*** * * * ***

As far as he could tell, Lotor was a trustworthy ally. There was just something _off_ about him. The way he spoke and made him uneasy. Allura didn't like him at all—but she had her own thing going on. Shiro seemed fine with Lotor until Lance's visits came up. Apparently, Lance was the one to convince Lotor to give them the location of the scientists' prison. 

Shiro was still quiet, carefully watching the exchange between Keith and Lotor. They were done with their debriefing, so they were just talking now—getting to know each other for real. 

"So," Keith smirked. "You two couldn't get anything but petty cargo ships out of Lotor and Lance just, what, walks downstairs and gets the location of Sam Hot?"

"With a milkshake," Lotor added. 

"With a—" Keith laughed. "With a milkshake, of course."

"Keith," Shiro scolded. 

"What? it's funny," He defended himself. "And I've gotten all of the information I need for the Blades. I want to go flying, now."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. The solemn expression started to bleed away. "You convinced Lance to go flying?"

"Yes!" Keith celebrated. "And he's waiting for me _right now._ " 

"Don't be so _needy_ , Keith," Allura teased. 

Keith blushed. He turned to leave, but Lotor was staring at him. "I'm sorry, but I was under the impression that you were no longer the Black Paladin."

"So?"

"How can you go flying with Lance?" Lotor asked, his facial expressions revealing the slightest confusion under his calm. 

"Well, back when I used to fly Red, we would go flying in our separate lions, just the two of us—"

"Just the two of you."

"Yeah..." Keith bit his cheek. "We used to have a particular rivalry that made forming Voltron, ah, _difficult_." 

Allura laughed. "Difficult? What a generous word."

Keith rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Lance takes me out in Red sometimes. After I switched to the black lion, Lance took over. I miss Red sometimes."

Lotor's eyes were unblinking. His lips twitched. 

Keith looked away, not willing to meet that dead gaze any longer. "It was nice to meet you, Lotor."

Keith was at the door by the time Lotor called him again.

"Oh, and Keith?" 

"Yes?" Keith turned, facing Lotor. 

Lotor smiled. "Don't tell Lance you told me you used to fly the red lion. He's been taunting me endlessly about his blue paladin suit and I just could _not_ figure it out."

Even Shiro snorted at that. 

"That sounds like Lance," Keith snickered.

Then he left to go meet him in the red lion's hangar. Lotor had seemed odd in the meeting. By the end, once they'd started talking, he seemed at ease. It was that intense stare that got to Keith. He was always calculating—always thinking. He was the prince of the galra. And he'd proved he was smart enough to manipulate Voltron. His intentions may have been good, but Keith would never stake the fate of the universe on his ability to make his enemies work for him. That was next-level intelligence. 

That was all.

Keith found himself running to the hangar, looking forward to flying with two of his closest friends. Before Keith could even get to Red, Lance scooped him up in Red's mouth, dragging them all out to space. He heard Lance's voice boom over the speakers.

"What took you so long?" He was laughing. 

Keith smiled. "Stupid work, that's what."

He ran to the cockpit, happy to see Lance in his pilot's chair. He wasn't wearing his armor, just his jacket and jeans. He seemed relaxed. Keith took his Blade of Marmora helmet and hood off. 

"Someone dressed up," Lance sang. 

"Yeah, I'm working on it," Keith groaned.

He could keep the suit on, but he wanted to dress down and meet Lance. He removed it piece by piece. Thankfully, his pants could fit under the suit just fine. It wasn't like his paladin armor, that came with a black bodysuit underneath. he was wearing his usual black pants and gray shirt. He didn't have his red jacket—but he didn't care. 

"That's better," Lance said. "Though I do like that suit."

"I'll keep that in mind," Keith hummed. 

Lance had taken them to a nearby planet. The area was uninhabited, so they weren't risking anyone's life. Lance flew them over the water. Red's feet skimmed the water. The sunlight through the mist filtered like a thousand rainbows. 

"This ocean reminds me of home," Lance closed his eyes. "I've been thinking a lot about my siblings. And Earth. What about you?"

"Not really," Keith stared at the horizon ahead. "I don't have much of a home there anymore. My dad is dead, Shiro is out here... I have a place with the blades."

Lance seemed hurt. He looked down, his hands tightening on the controls nervously.

"That's because everything I need is already out here," Keith said softly. "With me."

Keith squeezed Lance's shoulder. Keith froze, forgetting how jumpy Lance was about physical contact right now. Thankfully, Lance relaxed in his chair, leaning towards Keith's hand. Lance seemed so calm, Keith had to resist the urge to run his hand through his messy brown hair. He wondered how had it had gotten so messed up. Normally, it laid in gentle waves over his head. 

Keith couldn't stop himself. He combed Lance's soft hair, keeping contact with Lance's shoulder. "What? Did you play a lot of stressful video games?"

"Yeah," Lance's voice cracked. "I actually got a few levels in right before I came to the hangar."

Keith blinked. His heart slowed down to a dangerous pace. One of Lance's adapters for his gaming console was busted. More than busted—it was shattered into pieces. He couldn't have possibly played before meeting Keith.

"I got a new high score and unlocked a new boss—all the good stuff," Lance said cheerfully. 

Keith twirled a thick lock of brown hair around his finger. "And the hair?"

Lance deflated. "Right. Then I died and broke my console and lost all my progress—well, not my console. Just an adapter. Tripped over my laundry."

Keith closed his eyes. Before he could stop himself, he rested his forehead against the top of Lance's head. Keith was so, so stupid. He had been freaking out over nothing this whole time. Every worry and every suspicion he'd could be explained away so easily. Except for that gaming console. Was Lance lying in a way that Keith should be worried? Maybe he was joking to pass the time. 

Keith stood up, flattening the parts of Lance's hair that he'd bent out of shape. "I like your hair like this, all messed up. You should wear it like this more often."

Lance didn't respond. In fact, he'd stopped breathing. "No thanks," He mumbled. "I don't feel like braking another hard-to-find gaming device."

Keith whimpered. Maybe he was sad he broke something so valuable to him. "I'm so sorry, Lance. I'm sure Pidge can get you a new one."

"A new one?" Lance asked, his voice high. 

"Yeah," Keith said. "She probably knows where everything in the universe is made and sold; probably how it's shipped, too."

"I'll ask," Lance said, his voice too quiet. 

Keith looked at his hands, each very intimately connected to Lance. Keith must've been pushing it too far. He took his hands off Lance, letting the young man breathe. Lance sat up straighter. 

"You know, we're approaching—" Lance cleared his throat. "I thought you might be missing home a little bit, like me, so..."

The red lion flew over the water and crossed onto the land. It was an endless desert with high red and yellow cliffs; deep canyons every way you could look. The suns were setting over the desert, lighting the sky up red and orange. 

"Lance, it's beautiful."

"And it's about to get better." Lance pushed both controls all the way forward. The lion lurched. 

Keith was nearly thrown backward. He had to grab onto the chair to keep himself from flying into the cargo bay. "Lance!"

Lance laughed. "Good thing your hand isn't in my hair anymore."

"Ha, ha," Keith mimicked. 

Lance pulled back, then punched it again. He was jerking Red around, flying close to every cliff side and pillar. 

"Lance! Lance, what the—" Keith couldn't hold on. His grip slipped. Thankfully, Red slowed down and Lance caught Keith by his wrist. 

"What are you doing?" Keith asked. 

"Ah, come one, Keith," lance complained. "I'm just flying."

"No," Keith protested. "You don't fly like this."

Lance held Keith's gaze. He jerked his head away. "I'm trying something new."

"Why?" Keith questioned. 

"Didn't Allura say that the red lion was supposed to be fast, reckless, and brash?"

"No," Keith said. "She said—no, she didn't say that."

Lance shrugged. "Okay, well... I wanted to fly like you used to... just to see if I could."

"I don't fly like this..."

"Well, not now. Black is too big. But when you used to fly for Red, you were so fast and aggressive." 

"I prefer intuitive."

"Either way."

Keith sighed, watching Lance struggle to weave around the cliffs at this speed. He was grazing the jagged edges, hurting his old lion. "Lance... You shouldn't worry about that. You should fly like you. You're an excellent pilot... and—"

Keith watched as Lance dipped to close to a cliff, cursing as he couldn't make the turn. 

"I know Red wasn't your first lion. I know that must be... difficult. But you are a great pilot for the red lion. You forget—Red _chose_ you; chose the way you fly."

Lance looked up, his eyes pleading.

"I like the way you fly. _Red_ likes the way you fly."

Lance balanced Red in the middle of the canyon, guiding Red through with incredible speed—and incredible control. 

"Why were you doubting yourself, Lance?" 

"Something Lotor said," he mumbled. He spoke louder, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. "He said that predictive algorithms had detected a noticeable change in the flight patterns of the red lion. He said that the red lion used to be a fearsome creature; something all galra feared to meet in battle"

Keith scowled. "He doesn't know what he's talking about. So what if there was a change? People still fear the red lion—"

"Don't worry." Lance touched Keith's wrist. "Lotor wasn't insulting me. Actually, he said that I had become a better pilot since the lion changed the way it flew. He said Red was even more deadly now that it was practiced and experienced and not, um, impulsive."

"Oh," Keith relaxed. "Then, what were you worried about?" 

Lance made a pained sound. "I don't know. Just when he was talking about the way you flew—I remembered all the times at the Garrison when you out-flew everyone. Or the fact that you were immediately ready to pilot the red lion, or... I just started to wonder if I was doing something _wrong_. If Red wasn't happy with me like with you."

Red purred—loud enough that even Keith felt it coursing through his body. 

"There's more than one way to fly the red lion, Lance."

"I know," he said sheepishly. 

"Hey," Keith reassured him. "Don't you worry. You're a great pilot. Everyone thinks so. Especially me."

Keith took the back of his finger, tracing it ever so slightly down the side of Lance's face. "Lance..." He whispered his name reverently.

Lance blushed so bright under Keith's touch. Keith remembered his conversation with Shiro—about missing his chance. Maybe Keith didn't. maybe now was the time to fix everything and let them have what they want. It would be hard—and more than a little scary—for them to navigate away from their well-practiced pattern, but it would be so worth it. 

Lance looked away. Keith withdrew his hand like he's been burned. 

"You're too late," Lance whispered. 

"What?" Keith gasped. "What do you—what?"

"I'm sorry," Lance sobbed. "I'm just sorry."

Keith tried to move in front of the pilot's chair. He reached out to cup Lance's face. Lance grabbed his hand mid-air to stop him. He wouldn't even look at Keith's face. " _Stop_ ," He snapped so harshly Keith jerked away. 

Lance pulled them out of the desert. The red lion left the atmosphere.

*** * * * ***

"What if I just said it?" Keith panicked, following Lance closely as he left Red. "What if I just told you everything I have always wanted to say, right now?"

Lance covered his ears. "No, no, no—" He clenched his eyes shut. "Don't you dare, Keith. I will kill you!" 

Keith stopped. He thought this was what Lance wanted. 

"How dare you?" Lance whispered. "Don't tell me you could just do it this whole time. You _l_ _iar._ " 

Keith didn't know what to do anymore. Lance was so angry and stressed. Keith _knew_ he was the reason. If he hadn't left, he wouldn't have broken Keith's heart. 

Maybe if Keith walked away forever, Lance would move on and be okay again. 

"It's not too late," Keith phrased it more like a question. 

Lance didn't answer. 

"I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me— _please_. Tell me what's happening."

Lance remained silent. 

_"Lance?"_ Keith cried. 

Keith looked down. He was still wearing his regular clothes. 

"Shoot, Lance. I left my suit on Red—I have to go back to the blades now, too." Keith turned around. "Please wait for me, please? Don't go anywhere. Let me say goodbye before I leave."

Lance would _not_ respond to him. 

"Wait for me?" Keith pleaded. "Just wait for me, don't move."

Keith ran as fast as he could, grabbing his suit and piling it into his arms—not bothering to put it on. When he ran back into the hanger, Lance was gone. He hadn't waited for him. He didn't want to see him at all. 

Keith was too late.


	4. Lotor's Gambit

**Shiro**

* * *

Lance had made remarkable improvements in both his focus and fighting technique. It was miraculous. Lance fought like a demon—unafraid of running towards danger and taking it out.

But after this mission, Shiro knew it wasn't a good thing. He shouldn't be grateful. Lance had become a better fighter, but at what cost? Shiro didn't want him to lose himself out here. The war, the lions—it was all a lot for a teenager, Shiro knew that. Maybe Lance was finally starting to cave under the pressure. 

Lance was detached in the battle today. He worked faster and more efficiently than ever. He no longer limited himself to long-range fighting. Lance got up close, his gun in hand, and fought with grace.

When Shiro saw Lance with that galra soldier on the bridge, his gun to his head, he watched Lance pause. There was no pausing in battles. In combat, you killed or were killed, and Lance had killed to save himself and his friends many times before.

Only this time, Lance stopped. Lance raised his gun. Then, with disturbing calm, kicked the galra soldier off the catwalk. He walked away.

They were flying separately in their lions to the castle. Shiro sent a private message to the red lion, one only Lance and he could hear. Lance accepted.

His eyes had dark bags, his face tired. He wouldn't look at the screen. He'd moved it to the side, out of his way. He stared out the windows, focusing on the flight path ahead. 

"How're you doing Lance?"

"I'm okay," He said with his voice hoarse.

"No, Lance," Shiro waved, trying to catch his attention. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Shiro," Lance closed his eyes. "I just want to go home, maybe hit the training deck."

"No," Shiro ordered.

Lance had been training nonstop for almost two months now. He isolated himself. He was covered head to toe in bruises he wouldn't explain. He refused every message from Keith. He wasn't—he wasn't _talking_ to anyone.

"Maybe you should get some sleep," Shiro suggested gently.

Lance's shoulders hunched. "That sounds really nice, Shiro. but I—" Lance looked sick. "I'd rather keep busy."

"Lance—"

"I'll see you at the castle."

"Lance!" 

The paladin had cut the connection. Shiro grunted, pressing his palm into this head, trying to alleviate his headache. He tried to establish a connection with Lance again to no avail. 

Shiro took a deep, shaky breath. His hands trembled on his controls. Shiro punched his chair and cursed. _What was happening?_

Shiro was running out of ideas. They'd tried _everything_. Coran introduced them to a fun game called _Monsters & Mana_. Pidge told Shiro Lance was looking to replace a piece of his game console, so Shiro thought it would take his mind off things. Hunk made him a beautiful meal from Cuba; Lance could barely eat it.

Shiro needed to talk to Keith. 

*** * * * ***

In any other situation, Shiro would handle it himself, but Lance had specifically asked for Keith. Then he and Keith talked.

Shiro headed to the deck and contacted the Blade if Marmora.

Someone answered in their usual secretive nonsense, and Shiro asked for Keith. Keith responded, but not from their base. He spoke to Shiro in a whisper, audio only.

"Yes, I can talk now, but make it quick."

Shiro hesitated. "Keith, if you're on a mission, it can wait." 

"Oh, can it?" Keith wondered, his irritated tone humorous. 

"Something's wrong with Lance." 

Keith's comms were silent. The Marmoran on the screen waited dutifully while the two continued their conversation. 

_"Lotor,"_ Keith accused. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

Shiro blinked. "On my... How did we not think of that before?"

Keith cursed. "I don't know."

"What are you thinking?" Shiro asked.

"Lance said he was worried about his fighting skills. He said he was training with someone." Keith hissed.

"You're right," Shiro's voice croaked.

"Keep them apart. Don't confront Lotor. I'm coming over."

"Keith—"

"I am coming."

Shiro sighed. "Fine."

Keith disconnected his comm. The words _Transmission Ended_ appeared on the screen.

The Marmoran overseeing the call broke his silence. "Will you require backup?"

Shiro wanted to say no, but he wouldn't let Lotor play him. No matter what was happening, he was approaching this with full caution. "We may have to apprehend him. If you could send some men, I'll get the Paladins ready."

"Understood. I'll inform Kolivan of the situation," the Marmoran promised. 

The feed was cut and Shiro went to find Pidge. She would definitely be working. As many times as he begged her to sleep regular hours, he knew it would never happen. She was up working on some new project. He approached her in her largest workspace and spoke quietly.

"Pidge," He whispered. His voice echoed in the large room and she jumped. 

Her head snapped up. She called out, falling off her chair. Shiro lunged. He covered her mouth with his hand. Her face changed from alarmed to focused.

"Get to the green lion—It's Lotor."

Pidge swept the tools on the table into a bin, sealing the lid. She grabbed her bayard from the table. 

"Why isn't that with your armor?" Shiro asked quietly. 

"Since Lotor came to the ship, I've been careful. Lance may trust him," she adjusted her glasses. "but I don't."

Shiro winced. He'd pushed the team to let Lotor out too quickly. Sure, he may have led them to the prison where Sam Holt was held, but he did so after Sam had been transferred. 

"If you see Hunk and Allura say nothing—I need them behaving normally. We're doing this quietly. The Blade is on their way."

She looked more scared now, but she nodded.

"And, Pidge?"

"What?"

"Tell me the second you see Lance."

"... Okay." Pidge broke out into a run to get to her hanger.

Shiro took deep breaths. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was damaging their alliance with Lotor. He imagined Lance at the table, Hunk's delicious Cuban food untouched on a plate in front of him. He remembered all the times Lance flinched as he got up from his seat—or when Hunk patted him on the back. Shiro missed all the times Lance had come onto the bridge, his robe and slippers on, a milkshake in hand. 

He would not extend Lotor any courtesy or trust. He was a rat... And he was getting into Lance's head. 

Pidge spoke to Shiro on their private channel. She'd gotten to her suit. "Lance is headed to the training deck. I tried to talk to him, but he blew me off."

"Thanks, Pidge." Shiro ran. "I'll keep an eye on him. Will you let me know when you get to your lion?"

Shiro bolted for the training deck. He'd hoped to wait until the Blade got here before intervening. He decided he'd head upstairs, to the viewing platform to analyze the scenario. Pidge didn't respond.

"Pidge, tell me when you get to your lion." 

The silence was driving Shiro's nerves up the wall. 

"Pidge, just answer me now."

She didn't.

Shiro ran faster. If he tried, he could trace the route Pidge takes to her Lion and find out what was wrong—but that meant leaving Lance alone with Lotor. If Shiro wanted to know what was happening—how it all connected to Lance—he needed to see for himself.

It's what Keith would do. Keith didn't trust Lotor. As impulsive as he was, he showed a measure of control in situations like this. Only Keith knew beforehand Lotor was to blame... Shiro needed to think like Keith. Even if that meant leaving Pidge... in danger. Shiro was leaving her in danger.

He ran faster.

Shiro made it to the observation deck undetected. Lance had already started. Shiro checked the settings of the gladiator Lance was fighting. He was fighting at the most basic level. He didn't need to, even for a warm-up. Shiro watched him as he fought bot after bot. Lance took each bot apart with angry, brute force. He didn't hesitate. He used more skill. 

Everything Lance had learned recently—to fight with grace, poise, and finesse—was gone.

Shiro called out one more time. "Pidge?"

She still wasn't responding. She'd have to be at the green lion soon. He'd have to believe she was okay. 

Shiro was where he was supposed to be. He knew that. Looking at the change in Lance now... He looked so angry. He looked distraught. He was lashing out at the drone on level one like his life depended on it. He cut them down, again and again, acting like it would keep him sane. he was taking all his stress out on the bot, screaming like an out-of-control warrior. Shiro didn't even know his bayard could become a sword. It looked nothing like Keith's—much longer and thinner.

Shiro gripped the railing. Right on time, Lotor walked in. "End training sequence," Lotor commanded.

Lance turned around after the Prince's command. "What's for today?"

Shiro's entire body shivered, starting with his toes and ending with his head. Lotor _was_ training Lance—and he was pushing it way too far. 

"Draw by fire," Lotor proposed. "As you put it." 

Shiro thought he could see Lance shaking from all the way up on the observation deck. 

"What happened to you today?" Lance asked. "You seem angry."

Lotor drew his sword, swinging it slowly and elegantly, demonstrating his form. Lance walked to the wall and picked one of his own. He began to mimic Lotor's movement's like he was a mirror. 

"It's a good thing you're goofy-footed," Lotor commented. "Otherwise, this wouldn't work."

Shiro noticed Lotor had ignored Lance's question.

"I'd like to get more done today, I don't want to end it so soon." Lance stopped swinging. "I want to train."

Lotor swung his sword quickly and deadly, speeding up, putting on a show. Lance stepped back. "You've been tired of training lately."

Shiro couldn't see or hear Lance's response—if there was one. 

Lotor lunged at Lance, swinging as he went. Lance raised his sword and blocked, focusing on his defense. "Your enemy will not allow you form. They will not spare you time to use tactics. Improvisation is a skill you must acquire."

Lance didn't respond, right away. He couldn't, Lotor was moving too quickly. Lance grunted as their swords met. "But shouldn't I learn some forms _first_ , then? So I can fight?"

Lotor yelled, spinning his sword behind him and clashing against Lance with full force. Shiro wanted to tell Lotor to ease up. As a trainer, how was Lance supposed to learn if he couldn't evolve? Training like this... Lance was progressing with baby steps only. He wasn't learning to fight, he was learning to fear. 

"You know," Lance continued. "Application?" 

Lotor laughed. "Yes, yes, you apply your training to these circumstances, but I cannot teach you a fighting style. I will not. You will develop your own. The forms teach you to evolve it."

Lance ducked and rolled by Lotor's side, narrowly missing his blade, but successfully swiveling back to the middle of the room.

"Like that," Lotor mocked. "Did I teach you that?"

"No," Lance grunted again, still all on defense. "I have been studying you and your style, I won't be able to do that with my enemy." 

Lotor increased his intensity, whipping Lance in the side with the flat of his blade. "You will if you survive long enough."

Lance was getting hit from every angle now. Shiro stopped himself from going down and putting an end to this now. The Blades weren't here yet. 

Lance screamed, Lotor's blade catching his ribs again.

"Break the body," Lotor growled. 

"Free the mind," Lance cried. 

"Put your guard back up!" Lotor barked. "Or the consequences will be on you! Every life taken, because of _your_ failure!"

Shiro clenched his teeth. Was that what Lotor was doing: scaring Lance into believing he would be responsible for all casualties? 

"Can you face the consequences?" Lotor asked.

As soon as he said that, Lance fell apart. His form crumbled, he became desperate, and his face turned red as spit and tears streamed down his cheeks and chin. Lotor didn't stop, not even when he disarmed Lance. He kept beating on him and advancing. Lance held up his arms and covered his face as Lotor aimed high with his sword. 

"You'll leave a mark!" 

Lotor ceased his attack. He raised his blade and touched the tip to the top of Lance's right cheekbone. "Yield."

Lance started to shake, he closed his eyes. _"No."_

Lotor cut, quick and shallow. Shiro gasped. His body lurched forward, almost turning on the intercom. He managed to stop himself before giving his position away. Lance dropped to his knees, clutching his face. Shiro touched his scar in sympathy. His hand burned hot, every part of Shiro wanted to end this. He checked the status of his backup with his paladin suit. The Blades were _so_ close.

Shiro felt like he was still missing something.

"You think you can stop this?" Lotor yelled. He kicked Lance backward, discarding his sword. "You think you can avoid the consequences? Yield! Accept the consequences of your actions!" 

Lance tried dragging himself away, sobbing. "No!" 

Lotor kicked his rib cage, Lance grunted. Lance covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stop himself from screaming. Lotor changed his stance, switching from kicking to hitting, even clawing at Lance's arm. 

"Don't make me do it like this!" Lotor demanded. "Admit defeat. Face the repercussions."

Lance was sobbing now, crying while he curled in on himself. "No, _please_."

"Yield!" Lotor jumped on Lance, literally. Lotor grabbed his wrist and jerked him violently, demanding that he comply and submit to Lotor's wishes. Lotor didn't stop for some time. Lance was choking on his own air by the time he finally strangled out a word. 

"What?" Lotor asked.

"I yield!" Lance spit out.

Lotor touched his face, running his thumb under the cut on Lance's cheek. The cut ran from the top of his cheekbone, right by his hairline, and crossed it barely stopping before the lips.

"What was your plan, Lance? You are never going to win. You must learn when to leave the battlefield. Get your information, study my form, if you wish, then you must yield." 

Lance opened his mouth, the same devious look in his eyes he got before he said something sarcastic. Lance looked away from Lotor, not saying anything. 

"Nothing to say this time? You're learning." 

Lance wiped his cheek, smearing blood and tears on the back of his hand. "I don't want to." 

Lotor paused. "We never want to, but there is never a moment where punishment can be avoided. We hold our heads high, and accept the consequences."

Shiro froze as he watched what happened next. Lotor grabbed Lance's legs, spinning him around and onto his back.

Lance cringed. "You don't have to."

Lotor grabbed his legs tighter. He straddled Lance's legs, holding them in place with his whole body weight. Lotor seized Lance's wrists, pinning them to the floor by his waist. Shiro snapped out of his trance when he saw Lotor lean forward, lowering his face to meet Lance. Lance recoiled, turning his head to the side. On the screen, Shiro watched as Lance's tears fell quietly down his face. Lance flinched as Lotor bit his neck. 

Shiro sprinted down the stairs and into the training room. Lotor was all the way across the room, so Shiro was giving up the element of surprise. 

"Pidge, answer me now. Pidge? Pidge, it's worse than I thought. Pidge?" She would not respond. 

Shiro busted out into the training room, hand blazing, horrified of the scene in front of him. Lance's face was cast to the side, blood dripping onto the floor, tears in his eyes. He had gone limp under Lotor's hold, the prince's grip clutching Lance's cheeks and forcing him into a crude kiss. 

Shiro screamed out. "Lotor!"

Lotor pulled away from the kiss. He looked hazy with desire, his pupils blown wide open. Lance was horrified, his face pale and startled at the sight of Shiro. He sobbed, closing his eyes and straining to break free of Lotor's grip. 

"Subtlety was always my strong suit," Lotor said evenly. "so I'm going to chalk this up to bad timing."

Shiro seethed through his teeth. "Then what did you do to Pidge?"

Lotor grinned. "Ah, the little green paladin, running just a little too fast."

"Is she alive?"

Lotor smiled, "Of course, the green lion would never trust me if I had killed her." 

Lotor released Lance's wrists and the young Paladin's arms curled around his chest. Lance took a deep breath, curling onto his side with his legs to his chest, hugging his injured ribs. "Shiro..."

"It's gonna be okay Lance," Shiro said. He was going to get Lance to a healing pod as soon as he cut Lotor down. He felt a burst of pain in his temple—another one of his headaches. His one was much stronger. Shiro raised his hand higher. Now was _not_ the time. 

"No, sweet sharpshooter." Lotor drew a knife, his breath still heavy and his face still shining indigo from assaulting Lance. "It won't. It never is—"

"Enough! You're done putting things in his head." Shiro charged.

Lotor dodged every swing, not allowing Shiro to even touch him. Shiro couldn't move fast enough with his head splitting like this.

Lotor laughed. "Yield, soldier."

"No more games, Lotor," Shiro hissed through the throbbing. "You're finished."

Lotor huffed. "You will stand down, soldier. You don't have a choice."

_"Never."_


	5. Green

**Lance**

* * *

Lance curled on his side. He covered his ribs with weak arms. His body ached from the training session—by far the cruelest Lotor has ever forced upon him. He heard Lotor's arrogant speech through his haze. Shiro would never yield—he wasn't Lance. Shiro stood far stronger and more courageous than Lance had ever been. Shiro wouldn't give in as easily as Lance had. 

Lotor's hand caressed Lance's scalp, interrupting his precious break from the fight. Long fingers toyed with the front of his hair. Lance opened his eyes, Lotor's face inches from his. Lance tried to look at Shiro but Lotor stayed in the way. A hand was on Lance's waist, pulling him closer to Lotor. 

"Wait—" Lance flinched. 

"It's okay." Lotor hauled him into his arms. "Just close your eyes."

Lance didn't want to, but he was so tired. He glanced over Lotor's shoulder, his head slumping from exhaustion. Shiro was just letting Lotor take him away.

*** * * * ***

When Lance opened his eyes, he found himself staring through a green window. The green barrier rose over his head until it was gone. The lid on the healing pod had retracted. 

Lance moaned as the fog cleared from his head. He knew Shiro wouldn't risk jeopardizing the alliance with Lotor; not for Lance. 

The room around him was painted white and green; teal lights accenting every corner. Lance knew this place. Maybe Shiro let Lotor take him, but he had a plan all along. Lance was safe on the green lion. In fact, his chest felt almost healed. He felt more refreshed than he had in weeks. Lotor must've lied! Pidge was okay! 

Lance couldn't completely shake the uneasiness in his gut, though. Lotor conditioned him into having his guard up at all times. It didn't matter where he was or who he was with, there was always danger everywhere. 

Lance eased off the flat surface. His hand fell to his waist; he didn't have his bayard. 

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't need his bayard. He was safe on the green lion. Lotor had destroyed his sense of safety. Not a second went by where Lance wasn't waiting for Lotor to turn up and challenge him. He was always afraid of another lesson being forced on him. 

It was all okay in the beginning. After pushing Lance to train, Lotor was mostly kind. He spent days teaching Lance to meditate, study, and eat well. They had milkshakes on the grass. Everything was good. Lotor only started becoming more aggressive as Lance progressed in his training. 

Since meeting Lotor, Lance's connection with Red had weakened. Lance knew why. He isolated himself from the Paladins out of shame. He wanted Lotor, in more ways than one. In the moments when he wanted to break things off with the galra prince, Lance remembered it would take the Paladins to set him free. Lance put all of his cards on Lotor by convincing the team to release him from his cell. Everything that happened to Lance after that was his own fault. He couldn't turn back.

Shiro walking in on them was the best thing that ever happened to Lance. Things would be awkward for a while—the paladins were certainly going to give him an earful—but it was over. Lance could go back to how things were. He was definitely going to apologize to Keith as soon as he and Pidge were back on the castle. 

Lance relaxed his shoulders. He wasn't going to be afraid of his home anymore. He headed to the cockpit without his bayard. 

"Pidge?" He called, almost there. 

It wasn't Pidge in the pilot's chair. The figure was much too tall. That mop of white hair couldn't be mistaken for anyone but Lotor. And he was piloting the Green Lion.

Lance intended to back out slowly before Lotor could discover him there, but it was too late. 

"Good morning, sweet sharpshooter." Lotor rose, pushing away the controls and setting the green lion to cruise. 

Lance swallowed. He couldn't stand against Lotor, not again. Lotor was stronger and smarter; more powerful in every possible way. The only thing Lance could do was run. He fled as fast as he could, tripping over his own feet with each step. There were spare suits in the green lions cargo bay. Lance would jump into space if he had to—

"Ah!" Lance cried out.

Lotor grabbed his arm, spinning him and pinning him to the floor. His arm twisted painfully behind his back. Lance's cheek jammed into the floor and his neck bent. He kicked his feet out. Lotor easily dodged the attack and aimed a punch at Lance, hooking his closed fist into Lance's exposed rib cage. Lance wheezed in agony. His legs went limp and he collapsed on the floor. Still, he struggled. 

Lotor growled. "You have already lost this battle, young Paladin." Lotor's lips touched his ear. "Yield."

Lance shook under Lotor's grasp. He couldn't speak a word, he was so scared. 

"Better."

Lotor forced Lance's wrists together. Thick bands trapped each one before connecting like magnets. Lance tried to break his hands apart but they wouldn't budge. 

"Now..." Lotor turned Lance on his back. 

His shoulders screamed as they bent behind him. The cuffs dug into his back and wrist mercilessly. 

Lance felt Lotor's fingers in his hair, caressing the side of his face. Purple eyes looked up and down at Lance in awe.

This was unlike anything Lotor had done before. Lance's relationship with Lotor had very distinct spheres of behavior—they never intersected. They'd train as long and hard as Lance could, and then a little more. Then, in quieter moments, Lance would catch Lotor looking at him; they'd flirt and tease each other. When they were alone, Lotor attacked with deadly desire. He'd kiss Lance in ways he didn't think possible; in ways he never thought would feel good. This felt like one of those times.

Lance teared up. He'd relished in the aggressive, violent ways Lotor touched his body. He loved the way Lotor kissed him. He was addicted to the way Lotor craved him—like there was nothing in the universe he wanted more. Lotor was taller and stronger and so much hotter than Lance dreamed of. He might as well have begged Lotor for this—right now; to be pinned down. 

Lance jerked away from Lotor's gentle touch. 

Lotor recoiled, looking shocked—then angry at Lance's rejection. Lotor's hand locked in his hair, pulling Lance's head up to his face. 

"You don't get to do this to me," Lance grunted. "Let me go."

Lotor snarled. "It's nothing we haven't done before."

Lotor buried his face in Lance's neck before the paladin could protest. A hot trail of air traced a line down Lance's neck, ending where his shirt covered his skin. Lotor growled, stretching the fabric with his teeth. 

"That's not..." Lance bit his lip, restraining a moan. "That is not true." 

Lotor made a confused huff. "What do you mean?" 

Lotor's hand moved away from his hair, tracing taunting lines to his thigh. He squeezed his leg, moving his hand up again, cupping Lance's behind. 

Lance attempted another kick. He got Lotor's hand off his leg, but Lotor retaliated with greater force. Lotor threw Lance on the ground, attaching two additional cuffs to Lance's ankles. Lance kicked both legs at once, flapping embarrassingly at Lotor. Lotor calmly draped a leg over them both and weighed them down.

His eyes were painted with quiet rage. Lotor's hand twitched as it hovered over Lance's face. His hand lurched, trapping Lance's cheeks in his hold. His grip slackened. His heavy thumb touched Lance's bottom lip, tracing along the skin with care. 

Lance considered biting him. He would probably anger Lotor more than deter him, but it would be really interesting for about four seconds. 

Lance closed his eyes. Then Lotor would rain his fury on Lance. He couldn't risk that. 

Sharp teeth pricked Lance's lip. He kept his eyes shut tight as Lotor pulled the red flesh away tauntingly. A soft sigh escaped Lance's body. He could feel Lotor smiling. Lance had felt that devious smile many times before. Lotor kissed him again, taking turns with each lip. Lance was kissing back. He didn't know why. He didn't even notice. Was it familiarity? Fear? Or because Lotor had never been this gentle?

"Don't worry," Lotor breathed, tilting Lance's head by the chin. "You don't have to answer."

Lance grunted. "No, I—"

Lotor shushed him. He licked at Lance's lips, prying in and touching the tips of his teeth. 

"Stop," Lance whined, wishing he sounded stronger. 

Lotor snatched the back of Lance's neck and pushed harder. He rolled, pushing Lance further into the ground. Lance groaned as his wrists were crushed beneath them both. 

"I want—" Lotor gasped, biting Lance's collarbone. A hand squeezed his backside. " _You._ "

Lance froze. Lotor was pawing at his legs and arms with more rigor, snaking a hand underneath his shirt. He moaned in delight as Lance's abs danced under his touch.

"Just like that." 

Lotor released his hold on Lance's legs. He snaked one leg between them, keeping Lance pinned in place by his one leg. He could move his other leg a little, but he could not move it away—the ankle restraints made sure of that. 

Lotor aimed his leg higher and higher, settling his thigh in the space where Lance's legs met. Lance whined, clenching his lips together to stifle the sound. Lotor hummed with joy. He was delighted at Lance's response. He pressed his lips to Lance's cheek. 

"None of that," Lotor mumbled. Lotor leaned back in, stealing more kisses from Lance. 

Lance pulled away again, trying to get a break to breathe. 

"Hey," Lotor snapped.

He pulled Lance's hair roughly. Lance whimpered, his hair hurting and his neck bent backward. 

"I don't want to hurt you," Lotor explained. "Yield to me." 

Lotor pushed his leg into Lance's groin harshly. He squeezed Lance's ass with his free hand, sending a clear message. 

"No," Lance said. "Don't."

Lotor exhaled. His hot, angry breath ghosted Lance's skin. He moved to kiss Lance again, challenging him. Lance shook his head.

"You have nowhere to go," Lance said. "Turn back, I'll talk to Shiro. We'll tell no one about this."

Lotor tsked. "Don't lie to me, I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not. We'll say you connected to the Green Lion for the first time. Tell them I thought you how to fly. Whatever you want—" Lance begged. "Let's just go back, now."

Lotor frowned. "You're just nervous, Lance."

"Nervous? My hands are tied behind my back."

"And if I release them?" Lotor asked. "Will you touch me and kiss me like you have?" 

Lance clenched his jaw. Lotor had taken things too far. He had taken some form of ownership over Lance's body. He was possessive and obsessed. He wasn't the charming prince Lance thought he was, he was a threat. The worst part was, Lance still wanted to please him; still wanted to impress him. 

Lotor understood Lance in a way the Paladins didn't. Lotor liked Lance, Lance knew that. Maybe Lotor just didn't know where the line was. 

No, that wasn't right. _Lance_ was the one who didn't know where the line was. Lance _asked_ Lotor to train him. Lotor offered him the same training his teacher gave him; through galra tradition. Otherwise, Lotor was great. He spoke gently and kissed passionately. So why was Lotor doing this now? This wasn't a training exercise. 

Lance sobbed. When he saw Shiro on the training deck, he thought he was there to save him—not give him to Lotor. Didn't Shiro care that Lance was in pain? There's no way Shiro knew Lance was training with Lotor. If he had known, he would've put a stop to it.

"That's what I thought," Lotor said. 

He touched the button on Lance's jeans. He ripped it off, the strings holding the metal in place following the button. Lotor threw it across the room, removing his zipper in the same way. 

"No, stop!" Lance shouted. 

Lotor slapped Lance. His head spun and his mouth felt numb. He relaxed his head into Lotor's hand, grunting weakly when Lotor put him back on the floor. He knew Lotor was strong, but he didn't expect him to hit him so hard. Lotor lifted Lance's upper half, sliding his jacket around his wrists. 

"Stop," Lance insisted. "We can do this later, on the castle."

Lotor laughed. "Why wait? I've waited so long already." 

"Lotor, I'm not ready," Lance explained. "I want you. I want you, too. At home, please?"

"Oh, Lance," Lotor said, ripping open his shirt. "We _are_ going home."

Lance tensed in Lotor's arms. "What do you mean?"

Lotor smiled as he kissed Lance's chest. He sucked his exposed nipple into his mouth, twirling it in his mouth—switching the pressure on and off. Lance arched into Lotor's body, his hands growing warm as the blood returned. Lance kept himself there. The space between his legs rubbed deliciously on Lotor's thigh. 

Lance closed his eyes. He let his mouth hang open and moan at the sensations. There was something so wrong about this, but his body knew Lotor. He knew how passionate Lotor could be.

He groaned. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't Lance think straight anymore? It was like Lotor had become Lance's whole life. He spent every moment thinking about his next training session. While flying his lion, he thought about how Lotor complimented him as a pilot. While alone in his bedroom, it was Lotor in his dreams, always holding him down. His whole life revolved around when he would see Lotor. 

"Where's Pidge?" He finally asked, trying to keep his thoughts in order. "What did you do to her?"

Lotor's eyes grew bored as he ripped the remains of Lance's shirt apart. "She's fine. I knocked her out and stowed her in a service hatch."

Lance gagged. "You attacked her?"

Lotor rolled Lance onto his stomach, jerking his entire body as he did. Lotor was getting more aggressive. If Lance wanted him to calm down, he would have to stop asking questions. 

"That's why Shiro came. He wasn't there to save me—he knew what you did!"

"That's enough!" Lotor yelled.

His hand snaked around to Lance's mouth. He held him so tightly Lance couldn't even move his jaw. Every time Lance mumbled or tried to talk through Lotor's hand, Lotor jerked his head harshly until he stopped. 

"Since when do you need saving from me?" Lotor growled. "You asked for my freedom. You asked me to kiss you. You asked to be trained."

Lance tried to talk, but Lotor kept his grip tight. Lance blinked, tears falling and touching Lance's hand. 

"We're returning to my people," Lotor said.

Lance screamed, kicking out at Lotor. Lotor crushed him again, his body the perfect restraint. His white hair fell over Lance's head, tickling his face. 

"They're not going to kill us," Lotor explained. "I've made a deal: the green lion for passage back into the Empire. After attacking Pidge and Shiro, I didn't see a whole lot of options for us."

Lance started screaming, kicking harder and thrashing more aggressively. Lotor couldn't give Zarkon a Voltron Lion—no matter what. 

Lotor lowered Lance's pants. He released his mouth and used both hands to hold Lance's hips down. He kissed Lance's round cheeks through the fabric of his underwear. 

"Lotor," Lance gasped. "You're wrong. We can go back to the castle. I'll help you lie—"

Lance yelped as Lotor grabbed his wrist bonds and pulled. Lotor's back arched and his lungs strained to breathe. 

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not!"

Lotor threw Lance back on the ground. He leaned over him, his head by Lance's ear. He covered his mouth again. 

"They were going to lock me up," Lotor whispered. "For hurting you. They don't understand what we have, Lance. They were going to separate us."

Lance sniffed. He wanted to change Lotor's mind. He didn't want to go the Empire. Lotor might have negotiated passage, but Lance would be imprisoned. 

"I couldn't let that happen. Nod if you understand."

Lance nodded eagerly, but Lotor didn't let him go. 

Lotor sighed, his breath hungry and elaborate. He pulled Lance's underwear down, exposing him to the air. Lance cried, kicking his legs one more time to no avail. Lotor hummed, touching Lance's bare skin with his free hand. 

"Keep doing that," He pleaded. "You have no idea how badly I want you."

Lance shook his head. He couldn't talk and he had no other way to communicate. Lotor's grip tightened.

"Hold still." Lotor kissed the top of his head. 

Lotor pressed a finger to Lance's hole. Lotor pushed it in, slowly digging the digit into Lance's body. Lance tightened, the pain growing more intense the further Lotor went in. Lotor cursed, kissing the back of Lance's neck with an open mouth. Without warning, Lotor pulled his finger out and pressed another in. Lance clenched his eyes shut, his throat shredding as he screamed. 

Lotor kept his hand firm on Lance's face while he cried. He pressed the fingers in a little more, the knuckles of Lotor's hand making contact with Lance's flesh. Lance could feel Lotor's other fingers sprawled out to each side. Lotor flexed his hand, moving the two fingers up and down, then right and left. Lance squirmed while the unfamiliar sensations took over his body. His eyes rolled back into his head, his entire body convulsing from the strain.

Lotor started to pump his fingers, never pulling out farther than a centimeter, but just enough to rub his insides so hard they burned. Lotor was on a mission—he wasn't trying to stretch Lance open. Was he trying to hurt him on purpose? Lance blinked the tears away, his body adapting to the pain, but not the aggressive beating inside him.

The strain on his body lessened as the fingers began to slide with ease. 

"Yes," Lotor growled. "Just give in. Focus on how good it feels. So wet for me."

Lance grunted. His body was tired but his mind was wide awake. 

"Move your hips, Lance," Lotor ordered, slackening his grip on Lance's body. He lowered his voice. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, Lance. I want you dripping for me."

Lance cried, his tears making Lotor's grip slippery. Lance managed to jerk free, just for a moment. 

"It's blood!" He gasped. 

Lotor laughed, a sick joy to his voice. "Are you that _tight_?" 

Lance choked. "It doesn't..." Lance wheezed. "It doesn't work like that—I can't—I can't get wet."

Lotor ripped his finger out. Lance screamed, his body relaxing as soon as Lotor quit the assault. 

"No matter how good it feels?" Lotor sounded disappointed.

"No, it won't happen. You're supposed to..." Lance stopped. Was he really having this conversation? "You're supposed to add it."

Lance felt something big, warm, and slippery fit itself between his cheeks. Lance tensed, accidentally adding pressure to Lotor's cock. Lance rested his head on the ground, resigned to be beaten and used by Lotor. Lotor slid his cock between the cheeks, picking up speed until Lance felt warm liquid coating his flesh. 

It started to feel good—no different from Lotor massaging his back or kissing his chest. Lance felt the nerves in his backside shooting through his whole body. 

Lotor's grunts grew louder and faster. He rested a hand on Lance's lower back, pushing him into the ground while he steadied himself. Lance reached out with his bound hands. His fingertips barely reached far enough to touch Lotor's hand. Lotor removed his cock. Lance couldn't see him from where he was, but he felt Lotor kiss his hands. 

Lotor turned Lance on his back. This time, Lance couldn't focus on the pain in his hands. Lotor's face was flushed deep violet. The purples of his eyes were gone, blown away by the deep black of Lotor's pupils. 

Lotor caressed his face. "As pretty as you would be with my cock in your ass—I've always preferred it wet."

Lotor pinched face. Lance clenched his teeth on instinct, but Lotor was able to pry his mouth open very quickly. 

"If I gave my cock to that warm mouth of yours... Would you bite?" Lotor asked, his voice husky. 

Lance froze. Could he even bite? He wouldn't be able to bite it off, no. But how much would it hurt Lotor?

" _Of course not,_ " Lance smirked.

Lotor's face turned stoic. "Will you always lie to me?"

Lotor released his face, letting Lance fall to the ground. He flipped him over on his stomach. Lotor lifted his hips. Lance had to support himself uncomfortably on his face and knees. Cool air touched Lance's wet, aching entrance. 

"Now, let's see if this un-lubricating hole can feel pleasure."

Lance took a deep breath. Maybe if he convinced Lotor that it wouldn't Lotor would stop. It wouldn't feel good for Lance—not dry or with a member so large.

"It won't. It'll hurt," Lance begged. "Please Lotor, I want it to feel good. I don't want you to hurt me."

Lotor kissed his ass, dragging his lips across the surface. 

"Please, take us back to the castle."

Lotor scoffed. He pulled Lance closer. Something pushed inside Lance and made his gasp. 

Lance's hips buckled against Lotor's face. He couldn't stop himself now, his body was acting without him. Lotor's tongue massaged his rim, softly opening it up and moving in deeper at each opportunity. Lotor's tongue was so thick that Lance's constant clenching and unclenching had no effect. 

Lance clamped his mouth shut, down-grading his moans into whimpers, spurring Lotor on. His tongue hit all of the right places, but only barely.

Lance just needed him to go a little further, then he would be a complete mess. Lotor's tongue stayed just out of range. The young Paladin writhed under his touch. Lotor pulled his tongue out, his saliva making the air seem cold. He returned with his tongue rewetted. 

Lotor mounted Lance, his superior size making it easy to wrap his hand around Lance's face, clutching his mouth painfully. Lance tried to speak, but Lotor's grip was so strong.

Lotor's cock pressed against Lance's hole.

No...

Lotor's tongue had been so good. As ashamed as Lance felt for enjoying this, he really didn't want it to hurt. Lotor gently caressed his face before returning his hand to cover Lance's mouth. 

"It'll be better now," Lotor promised. "Don't be afraid, I won't last long."

Lance sobbed as Lotor kissed his head.

Lance started to scream through the hand, begging him not to do it. He wasn't ready—he didn't want it to be like this. He wanted to kiss him back! He wanted to wrap his arms around him while Lotor took him with passion. Lance wanted to explore every inch of the galra body and learn it's secrets. He wanted Lotor to pull his hair and push him against the wall.

Lotor pushed in. He didn't wait for Lance to adjust, guiding his cock inside Lance slowly. Lance's rim widened for Lotor, straining against the thickness. His walls pulsed around the head of Lotor's cock as it paved the way—touching him where he'd never been touched before.

lance tried to imagine one of his fantasies—any one of them. He pictured Lotor coming up behind Lance in his bedroom, kissing his neck and touching his chest. Lotor was rough and impatient—he wouldn't be able to wait. He'd flirt and whisper filthy words in Lance's ear. He'd push him onto the bed and stretch him well. He'd have to cover Lance's mouth so they wouldn't get caught. 

Lance sobbed. Once, he'd wanted that so bad. Now everything was ruined. Lance was jerked back to reality, the pain too intense for him to be anywhere else.

Lotor continued to moan in his ear, filling Lance with a harsh burst of something sticky and warm. The feeling of the intruding substance scared Lance, but he felt his own insides slip against each other, making him moan once Lotor had stopped thrusting. Even with Lotor still inside his ass, Lance couldn't help but move his hips a little. 

"Oh, you like that? You want me to stay here, your tight body around my cock all night?" Lotor grunted. "Ah, you're doing it again: tightening around me..."

Lotor pulled out. 

Lance almost fell over and onto the floor—not realizing how much he was relying on Lotor for support.

Lotor spun Lance around, cradling him in his lap. This time, when he moved to kiss Lance, he didn't stop him. Lotor's kiss was sloppy and tired; his mouth tasted like blood and berries.

Lotor pulled his jacket back over his arms, covering his bare chest. He helped Lance into his underwear slowly, caressing every muscle in Lance's legs as he did. 

"That was so perfect—" Lotor kissed him. "You are so beautiful, Lance."

Lance looked away, his jaw trembling. "Lotor—"

Lotor forced Lance to the floor. He left him lying there alone for barely a minute before returning with a gray sheet of metal. Lotor fitted the metal over Lance's mouth.

"Wait, no—"

Lotor sealed the gag over his face. Lance couldn't hear his own voice. He couldn't even hear his breathing. 

"We have an audience with my Father first thing," Lotor said. "And he won't appreciate your fight as much as I do. I will set you free soon—as soon as you behave."

Lance crumpled, half clothes and body broken. His last tear streaked down his face.


	6. The Deal for Their Lives

**Lotor**

* * *

Contrary to what Lance believed, Lotor did have a contingency plan. He brought the green lion—with Blue, Yellow, and Black on his tail, to his father's ship. He had just begun to feel the pull of Pidge's bond with the green lion when the fleet drove the paladins away. They retreated, no doubt to save their friend at a later time. Lotor was never going to let that happen. He was going to take Lance to the heart of the Galra Empire. 

Lance's eyes were blown wide with panic. Lotor could tell Lance was speaking through the gag, but not a word reached his ears. Lotor brushed his hair away from his eyes, his heart aching as Lance flinched away. Lotor knelt, drawing Lance's head to him, kissing him softly on the forehead. 

"Stay still, my paladin," Lotor mumbled. 

He applied more restraints to Lance, keeping his legs bound together in several places, even adding straps to his arms. Lance was completely immobilized. Lotor kissed Lance's exposed neck to make him feel less afraid. 

The minute Lotor was finished here, he'd take Lance back to his quarters and take his sweet time with the human. 

Lotor carried him out of the green lion over one shoulder. Lance was wearing nothing but his battered jacket and deep blue undergarments. Even the trained guards here on Zarkon's ship couldn't help but cast glances their way. 

He would have to leave the lion unattended for his audience with Zarkon. Lotor ordered them to lock the Green Lion up tight. He trusted his bond with the Green Lion was strong, but Pidge still threatened his hold on the creature. 

*** * * * ***

It wasn't unusual for the crowd at a gladiator match to see a general, prince, or the emperor with a body draped over their lap. It may be a public space, but its primary purpose was entertainment. But now, with Lotor forcing a human to his feet, they were catching a lot of attention. 

Lotor wanted to leave Lance somewhere the paladin would be alone. Lotor would have to ask for his father's approval to keep a Paladin of Voltron in Galra HQ. He had hoped to present his case alone, not with Lance glaring at his feet. Lance was not helping Lotor form a very convincing argument.

Zarkon didn't want to wait. He wanted to hear about the green lion immediately. 

"Before we start—" Zarkon gestured at Lance. "What have you brought me? The green paladin?"

Lotor laughed. "Lance? No. He's very bright—don't forget—but he is not... intellectually inclined."

Lance snapped his head back and glared at Lotor. 

_I'm sorry._ Lotor mouthed. 

"No, no," Zarkon decided. "This is the blue paladin isn't it?"

Lotor smiled. "Sort of."

"Well, he isn't much without his lion and bayard, is he?" 

Lotor pursed his lips. He brushed his hands through Lance's hair, trying to get Lance to _calm down already._ Zarkon was going to have Lance executed if he didn't behave. The gag was a good decision. 

"Ah, I see," Zarkon mused.

Lotor's hand froze. He hadn't meant to be so outwardly affectionate. "I suppose it's a good thing it is the Blue Paladin you have... _selected_."

"What do you mean?" Lotor asked. 

"Well, the black paladin is out of the question. The yellow one is far too loyal. The green paladin could never be allowed so far inside my base. And the red paladin is too... rebellious."

Lotor watched Lance's eyebrows furrow with fury as Lance spoke. He pulled Lance's hair harshly, warning him to keep cool and not blow their cover. 

"But the _b_ _lue_ paladin," Zarkon said. "The blue paladin can adapt to survive any scenario. They are a stable, powerful force."

Zarkon reached over, grabbing the collar of Lance's jacket. Lotor released Lance's hair on instinct. Zarkon pulled Lance off the ground like a wounded puppy. Thankfully, Lance stopped kicking and glaring. His body grew rigid and his eyes wide. Lance flinched as Zarkon pulled him to his lifeless face mask. 

Zarkon cast Lance to the floor. Lance's arms and legs were bound, so he couldn't catch himself. Lotor dove to his rescue, rolling his trembling body over. Lance closed his eyes, curling into Lotor's body. 

"How quaint," Zarkon said.

Lotor stepped in front of Lance, shielding him from his father. 

"Why have you come here, Lotor?" Zarkon sighed.

"I want to earn my place back in the empire."

Zarkon laughed. He pointed at Lance, then dragged the back of his finger against Lance's cheek. "Even you aren't bold enough to discuss such things in front of an audience." 

Lotor smiled, switching to an old, Galran dialect that died over six thousand years prior. _"Then perhaps we should discuss things in private."_

Zarkon growled. _"And why would I extend you that courtesy?"_

_"I thought—"_

_"I don't care what you_ thought _,"_ Zarkon snapped. Though, Lotor noticed he continued to speak in their old language. _"You left my empire in shambles. You divided your efforts between your duties and your hobbies until I had no choice—no choice—but to fix my first mistake. Banishment was too low a punishment for you—death would have suited us all better."_

Lotor pursed his lips. _"I did not abandon my post for a hobby—"_

 _"An obsession, then,"_ Zarkon decided. _"And I see you have new one."_

Lotor didn't have much left to gain the upper hand. He could brag about how his efforts went towards finding quintessence. He could lie and say he was designing a weapon—which was sort of true, the Sincline ships were powerful—but he didn't want a weapon, he wanted to end the war. 

Keeping the high ground was not an option. Lotor couldn't go back to the Castle, they'd never let him keep Lance. And his and Lance's prospects on the run were... sparse. Especially without the proper materials to secure the young paladin. 

_"The Paladins never would have allowed me to stay with him,"_ Lotor admitted with false insecurity. 

_"You were discovered pursuing this..."_ Zarkon paused, staring at Lotor through an unreadable mask. _"You squander every opportunity to aid the galra for your own goal. You betray me and a plan that took years to create with that ship of yours. Then, you sacrifice your one last option for a lowly creature such as this."_

 _"Lowly creature?"_ Lotor asked. He lowered his voice, begging himself to sound calmer than he felt. _"A Paladin of Voltron, a commander of one of the great Voltron Lions, an excellent pilot, fighter, and..."_ Lover. _"And you think I gave up everything for someone with nothing to offer?"_

Lotor could tell he'd failed to keep his cool. Zarkon's shoulders had gone stiff. Even Lance was inching away from Zarkon, curling into Lotor's legs to hide from him. 

"Why is he in chains?" Zarkon asked. 

Lotor looked at the floor. How was he supposed to say the one he wanted was still being so... _stubborn_ about it? 

Zarkon didn't wait for an answer. It seemed, he had a speech prepared. 

_"You stopped us from killing Voltron, the rebels, and the Blade of Marmora with that stunt you pulled... And now you want me to protect you and your pathetic little pet? I'm sorry—not pathetic: highly dangerous Paladin of Voltron,"_ Zarkon hissed. _"You made that much clear."_

 _"Father,"_ Lotor whined. What was he thinking? That he could trick his witless father into seeing reason? _"I am not... You're right. I am unfit to rule an Empire the way I am. Your recovery is the empire's only hope—"_

_"Careful son, you're groveling."_

_"I am not,"_ Lotor snapped. _"I cannot rule the galra. My mind—and my skills—are better suited elsewhere. I did not escape the castle on the black lion, I stole the heart of the green lion. I am no leader. I know where my loyalties lie now."_

Zarkon took a deep breath, turning to look at his son.

_"And I won't fool myself into being something I am not."_

Zarkon stood, grabbing Lance by his collar. He pulled him from the ground and walked him to the balcony. Lotor sprung from the couch with his heart racing. What was Zarkon going to do to him?

Zarkon held him up, staring him down. Lance kicked with his whole body, glaring at Zarkon with the fire of the Red Paladin. Lotor held his hands up, pleading with Lance to not get them killed. Couldn't he see how much danger they were in? 

"Why is he gagged?" Zarkon asked in English. 

_"He hasn't been so... difficult in the past. We have been training for months. I have molded him and punished him appropriately. He's been very compliant with my wishes and has submitted to punishment in the past,"_ Lotor explained. _"He's... I only hope I haven't hurt him too much too soon—that's what may have spurred this rebellion in him—but the black paladin forced my hand."_

_"Haggar's experiment? You could order him to stand down. With his situation..."_

_"I did,"_ Lotor explained. _"It's how I got out. But he had prepared. He alerted the Blade of Marmora and had that little green pesk running for my Lion."_

Zarkon dropped Lance on the floor. Lance's eyes shut as the impact shot through his body. 

Zarkon looked away from Lance. Lotor didn't go to see if he was okay. He forced himself to face his father. "You can pilot the green lion."

"Yes."

"Not even Honerva could do that."

Lotor swallowed. 

"Keep the paladin. We could use a pilot for the blue lion." 

Lotor sighed, his relief far more palpable than he would have preferred. 

_"Father, I worry. Have you only forgiven me because of my ability to pilot the green lion?"_ Lotor dared to ask.

 _"No,"_ Zarkon said. _"It is because you have always striven to be separate from the empire. You have always been different. Now... I believe you have seen the reason behind our ways... Is it your intent to get his Consent?"_

 _"Yes,"_ Lotor answered aloud before he knew the answer.

 _"Then you have more than your promise to pilot the lion."_ Zarkon nodded. "The Paladin may be a threat, but I will allow you to keep him." 

Lotor glanced at Lance nervously—Lance looked heartbroken. Tears streaked down his face and into the crevasses of his muzzle. Zarkon must've hurt him when he dropped him. 

Zarkon snapped his fingers, ordering the servants to open the door. As he passed Lotor, he whispered in his ear. 

"Handle him as you wish, but until he offers his Consent..." Lotor could _feel_ the smile in his father's voice. "Haggar will be keeping a close eye on you and your... activities."

Lotor gagged. "I understand."

Zarkon left. Lotor waited, frozen in place for longer than he should have. Was he answering to Haggar now? What would happen if he couldn't get Lance's Consent? That endeavor would take years—if Lotor wanted to do it right. But he couldn't be under Zarkon's eye for too long.

Lotor looked at Lance, the small human silently fuming where he lay on the floor. How was Lotor going to break him down in time?

*** * * * ***

Lotor took Lance to his private quarters first. it was a large, grand room with dark gray steel from floor to ceiling. Golden rims decorated the 10-foot-thick windows. Purple curtains draped down from the ceiling and filtered the starlight into the room. The bed was centered on an octagonal platform in the center of the room, lights on the stairs. The bed sheets were the finest thread of silk in the galaxy; the white strands woven by altean craftsman on the colony. 

Lotor carried Lance baby-style to the on-suite restroom. He set Lance on the edge of the tub. Lance was covered head-to-toe in beautiful crisscrossing bonds. Lotor started freeing his arms, releasing the restraints around his chest and shoulders first. He kissed each piece of skin as he removed each strap. Lotor glanced up, smiling at the blush on Lance's cheeks. 

Once, his arms were free, Lotor pulled off his jacket. He pulled it to the side, laughing as Lance reached for it. Lotor held it out of his reach, snaking an arm around his waist to hold him still. Lance tapped Lotor's shoulder, pointing at the muzzle. 

Lotor cast the jacket to the side, holding Lance in place by his hips. Lance wouldn't stop staring at that damn jacket. Lotor left Lance along on the edge of the tub, taking the jacket and locking it in a cabinet. He tucked the key in a small jewelry box. 

When he turned around, Lance's eyes were on the genetically coded box. He'd inched onto the floor, using his arms to push himself forward with his bound legs. Lotor knelt by him, moving to undo the straps on Lance's legs. Lance gently grabbed his wrists, guiding Lotor's hands up to his face. Lotor ran his fingers along the edges of the muzzle delicately. The moment he took that off... it could destroy this calm Lance had. 

Lotor dropped his hands. He could practically hear Lance scoff. Lotor undid the straps on Lance's legs and ran his hand along the muscles. He held his hand out and Lance took it. Lance winced as he stood, his back hunching awkwardly. Lotor have to knead his muscles and treat him to some oils. 

He guided Lance to the mirror. He pointed at Lance's undergarments. Lance shook his head, pointing to the muzzle again. 

"Lance..." Lotor groaned. 

He knelt down once again. He made an effort to sound irritated, but he loved guiding Lance's last shred of clothing down his legs. He kissed his thigh as he ordered Lance to step out of them. 

Lotor adjourned to the closet. He ordered a robe of his favorite design based on the dimensions from Lance's jacket. He brought it out and displayed it proudly. Lance reached for it in a second, his arms crossed awkwardly over his stomach. Lotor stood behind Lance, easing the robe onto Lance's arms. Lance fumbled with the ties in the front, not familiar with the style. Lotor reached around Lance's chest, doing the straps for him. 

Lance was staring at himself in the mirror, his expression frozen in some form of distress. 

Lotor released the muzzle. Lance took in a deep breath, running his hands along his jaw. He didn't speak. 

Lotor kissed Lance's cheek. 

Lance took a shaky breath. "Lotor?"

Lotor hummed. "I missed your voice."

Lance clenched his jaw. "Are you kidding me?"

Lotor laughed, creeping in the slightest dangerous edge to keep Lance in line. Lance's back tensed.

"We're going back to the bedroom, Lance."

Lance slowly turned over his shoulder, glancing at Lotor with pupils dilated and cheeks red. 

"I'm letting you know so you can snap out of this mindset you're in," Lotor warned. "So that we can do this right."

Lance's eyes fluttered shut. He turned his head away and let his it hang. 

"Come on, Lance," Lotor pleaded, "You remember how good it can feel. I have made your eyes roll back into your head just by kissing you..."

Lance shook his head. "I want to go home," He whispered.

Lotor pulled away. He grabbed Lance's arm by the bicep and guided him to the room. "You are home."

Lance grunted, stalling despite Lotor's grip. "No, no—"

Lotor jerked Lance's arm, grabbing onto his by both shoulders. Lance was so small in his arms it always drove Lotor crazy. It drove Lance crazy, too. Lotor knew how much he loved being thrown around and manhandled. Lance always gushed when Lotor towered over him or held him down. 

But Lance wasn't acting like himself and it was pissing Lotor off. 

Lotor forced himself to relax. As much as he wanted to slap the rebellion out of Lance until he never saw it again, he needed Lance's Consent sooner than that. He could beat him down and love him until Lance gave in, or he could start loving him now and pray that it worked. It was a risk, but Lotor couldn't waste his time. After all, Zarkon said the Red Paladin was born to rebel. 

He ran his hands along Lance's arms lovingly. "Do you remember that time..." Lotor sang sweetly in Lance's ear. "I came into your room and you were wearing a robe... kind of like this one here."

Lance's face turned pale. "Yes... but..."

Lotor couldn't get Lance to meet his eye. 

Lotor kept going, hoping to warm Lance up. "It's the first time we ever touched each other quite like that..."

Lance's shoulders hunched. He tilted forward, his head resting against Lotor's chest. 

"It's also the first time I didn't hold you down," Lotor teased. 

Lance shuddered. 

"Come on, Lance," Lotor begged. "Let's do that again."

"No," Lance hissed. 

Lotor took his hands off him. 

"That made me feel—" Lance's lip quivered. "gross."

Lotor narrowed his eyes. "You liked what we did. You begged me—you said my name a hundred times." 

"I know—I know!" Lance rubbed his temples. "I know that. But it was different... I wasn't ready for _that_."

"Then why did you ask me for it?" Lotor hissed. "And when it was over, you said you wanted me to feel that as well."

Lance bit his lip. "It was just so fast... I thought we would flirt for—for a long time and that you'd kiss my cheek or hold my hand and look away and blush when I looked at you and I wanted—"

Lotor kissed him. Lance's protest was muffled, but his frame relaxed under Lotor's harsh kiss. "Did I not give you all that?"

Lance sobbed. "You did..."

Lotor grabbed Lance's hair, relishing in the shocked gasp Lance gave when he yanked—forcing the Paladin to look at him. "You were never the same after that Keith visited."

Lance's eyes welled up. "I just wasn't ready. You made me feel awful. You—you were always so forceful and it was so fun but after that, I just couldn't—I couldn't look at myself anymore... And I hated that robe!"

"What?" Lotor shouted. Of all the things Lance said, he found that hardest to believe. "You wore it all the time! You loved that—"

"Well, I changed my mind!"

"What does that robe have to do with anything? I can get you any clothes you want now—"

"Then I want my jacket."

"No," Lotor refused.

"What?" Lance threw his hands in the air. "You _said_ any clothes—"

"Well, you're acting like a child!" Lotor growled. He turned away, his fists clenching with a burning desire to act.

"I—No," Lance's tone softened instantly. He ran to Lotor, cupping his face gently. Lotor leaned into Lance's warm hand. "No... just—don't fly the lion for Zarkon. Take me home."

Lotor must've improved his glare, because Lance looked terrified. 

Lance's recovery was quick. He kissed Lotor, not stopping when Lotor didn't kiss back. "Take me home and it can be like that again."

"Why?" Lotor asked, detached. "So you can feel gross again?"

Lance shivered. "No, I'm sorry—"

"No _I'm_ sorry." Lotor returned to the closet, grabbing Lance a set of reddish-brown clothes. He threw them at Lance's feet. "Put these on."

Lance hurried, putting on the new layers without removing his robe. When he finally cast the robe aside to put his shirt on, he turned around so Lotor couldn't see. 

Lotor retrieved some binds from the closet. Lance was still turned around. He bent down to slip on his thin, leather shoes. Once he stood, Lotor grabbed his wrists and jerked them behind his back. 

"Lotor don't—"

Lotor reattached the cuffs and magnetized them behind his back. He marched Lance out of the bathroom, leaving the luxurious clothes, soaps, and jewelry behind. Lance wouldn't be sleeping in those fabulous sheets under the stars. He wouldn't be exfoliating with the best scrubs in the universe. He would be dressed in rags and eating scrap food. 

To Lance's apparent horror, Lotor slapped the muzzle back on, making sure not to tighten it too much on the bridge of Lance's nose. 

Lance cried again, pleading with him through the gag. Lotor heard nothing, but he offered a warning to Lance. "No one else on this ship cares about you, Lance. They won't hesitate to beat you down for this pathetic rebellion. So _play along_. And stop that obnoxious kicking."

Lance stilled. When the guards came for him, Lotor could see the regret in his eyes. Lotor almost called him back, but he knew it wouldn't be for the best. 

He was going to have to beat that rebellion out. If he didn't, Lotor's father was going to kill them both. 


	7. The Gladiator

**Lance**

* * *

Lance sat on his bed; feet cozy in his lion slippers, skin relaxed in his Paladin robe. A cold milkshake sat melting on his nightstand—his mind engrossed in his video game. He was going to blow Pidge's mind with this new high score. 

God was Shiro right! Lance really needed to take his mind off things. 

And, because Irony was a determined force, _things_ took the opportunity to walk into his room.

Lance froze for a moment. What did he do? Did he ignore Lotor and play his game? But he couldn't possibly stop the game and greet Lotor—this was a boss match. Lance figured it would be smart to play it cool like he used to. Unfortunately, he had paused just long enough for his avatar to take a fatal hit. One mocking 80s-style song later and the TV was shut off by a purple hand. 

"That's a shame," Lotor said. "If only your animated character could fight like you."

Lance looked down at his hands. "Says the guy who just introduced my face to the floor."

"Don't worry—" Lotor kissed his cheek. "You'll learn how to keep your footing around a larger opponent." 

Lance smiled. "Thanks, that helps."

"I'm glad." Lotor crouched down in front of Lance. "You smell wonderful."

"I ate the sweaty mat, Lotor." Lance ran a hand through his damp hair. "I treated myself—and my bruises—to a world of hot water and beautiful coconut soaps." 

Lotor's fingers combed Lance's hair. Their hands met as he brushed Lance's locks softly. "You deserve that far more often."

Lance blushed. "Do you ever get tired of saying things like that?"

"Not until you tire of hearing them."

Lance smiled. "Aw."

Lotor's eye's darted away from Lance's face for less than a second. Lance's entire body tensed under Lotor's gaze. 

Lotor grabbed the hem of Lance's robes. He drew Lance in, his lips grazing the vulnerable parts of Lance's skin. Lance kept his hands in his lap, his fingers fidgeting and his palms sweating. 

When Lotor kissed his neck for real, Lance's eyes fluttered shut. Every nerve and blood vessel in Lance's body was on fire. He cocked his head, sighing gratefully as Lotor met him halfway, their tongues colliding in a calm—but awakening kiss. When Lotor pulled away, Lance was frozen in shock. He stared into those yellow and purple eyes with a new interest. 

Before, Lotor had always sparked him alive with his intense touches and kisses. Lance was happy to fall into Lotor's arms for hours just like that. This time felt different. There were only so many ways that Lotor could kiss him... Lance was starting to get anxious. 

This was different. 

Lance fiddled with the tie on his robes. He was wearing his nicest pair of underwear underneath, but he was still nervous. Lotor had touched and kissed his stomach many times before, but always with Lance's shirt on. He was afraid of being so bare. He'd managed to trick Lotor into thinking he was attractive so far...

Lance bit his lip, undoing the tie under Lotor's hungry eyes. He separated his legs to sit up better—his whole body jumping when Lotor cupped the inside of his upper thigh. Lance pulled the robe slowly apart, laying back as he did. He prayed he looked attractive like this. 

Lotor's low breath sounded hungry. Lance's stomach swirled like a hurricane of burning coal. 

Lance felt high on Lotor's approval. "Will you—Do you want to—"

Lotor purred. "I'm afraid I won't be taking requests, this time."

Lance's chest heaved, and they hadn't even started yet. Lotor's hand flattened against his chest, pushing Lance into the mattress. Lance let his head fall against the mattress. Lotor's fingertips traced agonizing lines down his abs, tracing his defined muscles. 

Wet lips touched his inner thigh. Lance's body jolted away, the sensation shooting straight between his legs. "God..."

Lotor's hand snapped out like a viper. He jerked Lance's hand back and trapped it by his legs. Lotor's mouth found new nerves in his legs that Lance didn't know existed. 

"God..." Lance moaned pathetically. "I need to get more action from people thousands of years older than me."

Lotor chuckled. "Shiro mentioned you were young."

"Ew, don't talk about Shiro right now."

Lotor kissed Lance's stomach, right above his waistband. He rested his head on Lance's bare chest. He brushed his hair violently and let it fall all over his face. 

He was still holding one of Lance's hands down. Lance used his free one to brush the shining white strands in Lotor's face.

"How young are you?" Lotor asked. 

Lance blushed. 

Lotor was galra—he could be anywhere from ten-thousand to thirty years old. Lance was just a teenager. 

"You're team is very protective—of you, in particular. I assume you must be around eighty, maybe sixty."

Lance closed his eyes. Was this going to be a deal breaker for Lotor? Wouldn't Lotor want someone with more experience? More knowledge?

"Oh, my." Lotor let his hand go. "You're _younger_."

"Lotor..." Lance started. "I don't want you to—to freak out..."

Lotor sat up, dragging himself to kneel by the bed. He grabbed Lance's hand and urged him to sit up. Lance obeyed, closing his robe as he did. 

"Forty?"

Lance covered his face with both hands. "Stop guessing!"

"Lance, just answer the question," Lotor pleaded. "Nothing will ever turn me away from you."

Lance lowered his hands, keeping his mouth covered so that, hopefully, Lotor wouldn't hear. "I'm only seventeen."

Lotor stilled. His lip twitched upwards, so faint it was almost imperceptible. "They are _extremely_ protective of you."

Lance leaned forward, touching Lotor's lip with his fingertip. "Is that... a problem?"

Lotor's reaction stirred a primal part of Lance's body; his every nerve screamed _danger!_ but he couldn't move. Lotor's eyes dilated and his fangs peeked out of his lips. 

"Has anyone ever touched you in the ways I have?"

Lance couldn't speak. He couldn't move his head. 

Lotor moved slowly, like a predator trying not to scare away his prey. His lips touched Lance's, but he didn't kiss him. 

"Has anyone ever—" Lotor shivered. "Has another ever—"

 _"No,"_ Lance gasped against Lotor's lips. 

"So only me...?" Lotor opened his eyes, his breath shallow.

Lance nodded, closing his eyes to shield his mind from Lotor's intense glare. 

Lotor moaned, leaning in to kiss Lance. "That—" he gasped between kisses. "—is the _opposite—_ " Lotor lost control.

Lance felt a hand in his hair, pulling hard. Lotor groaned filthily as he kissed Lance. Lance responded in kind—sending his pride to the wind and setting his voice free. 

Lotor pulled away. Lance tried to follow, but Lotor had his head restrained by his hair. Lance opened his eyes, his heart beating in his ears. When Lotor leaned in again, his mouth was open. Lance returned the kiss, but found his head jerked away again. 

"No," Lotor ordered, more of his calm back in his voice. "Not like that: no tongue."

Lance leaned forward; Lotor let him. Their mouthed collided again, dancing slowly together. Their heated gasps danced between them. It felt good.

"Oh, there's so much I could show you—" Lotor boasted. "being your first." Lotor bit Lance's neck. _"And your only."_

Lance leaned into his body, ripping his robe open hastily. He sighed with his smile wide when Lotor's hand touched his exposed skin again. Lance _relished_ in this primal, possessive side of Lotor. 

"Do you like that?" Lotor taunted. "Me being the _only_ being in the universe to kiss you—to touch you."

Lance laughed. "I think you're the one who likes it."

Lotor smiled. "Is that a problem?"

"The opposite."

Lotor nodded. He was awfully still. 

"So that you are aware... I wanted you so desperately—long before I knew that."

Lance shivered. "Thank you."

He scoffed. Did he just say thank you? 

"I want to touch you," Lotor told him. 

"Okay," Lance said without thinking. 

"That's okay?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Lotor pulled Lance's underwear down. He left it around his thighs, just above the knee. Lance braced his hands delicately on Lotor's shoulders. 

Lotor's strong hand wrapped around him. Lance instantly curled his body in. He buried his moan in Lotor's neck. Lotor's hand stared moving slowly, his grip firm. Lance shivered as Lotor combed his hand gently through his brown hair. 

"Just close your eyes... relax... whatever you want," Lotor whispered. "Take it however you want."

Lance fell back on his earlier request. "Can you—" he gasped; Lotor slowed down. "Can you hold—god—will you pin me down? And maybe—pull my hair?" 

Lance's face was still settled against Lotor's chest. So when Lotor started to lean forward, Lance fell back on the bed. His grip on his hair tightened. Lotor's hand stopped moving. His whole body has frozen. They both laid back together—Lance laying on the bed with Lotor folded over on his chest. Lance wrapped his arms around Lotor's body, brushing his hair. Lotor sighed under his fingers. 

"Just..." Lance hesitated. "Do this to me how you want to do this. How you _would_."

Lance felt Lotor's entire hum with anticipation. Lotor started to pick up the pace. Lance closed his eyes, clutching onto Lotor's body and hair with all the strength he had left. 

Lotor was good at this. His thumb would flick and twirl around the head; his wrist made a fast motion at the top. Lance's toes were curling to the point of pain. Every time Lance's body arched upwards, Lotor gave his hair a little tug. Lance thought Lotor would be a little more aggressive than that. Then, as Lance's gasps started to heighten, Lotor pushed Lance's body into the mattress, forbidding all movement. His hand tightened in his hair and pulled. 

It ended with Lance's body convulsing under Lotor's hold. Lotor held him tight until it was over—then long after that. As Lance relaxed into the bed, Lotor released his hair, slowly petting Lance's waist. 

Lance sighed. 

Lotor took the cue. "That was much more, consuming of you than I had imagined."

Lance was still catching his breath. "S—Sorry?"

"You," Lotor said like it was a full explanation. He rolled his eyes. "Your species. You're sensitive."

"Really?"

Lotor laughed. "Very galra, not many match up to us on a physical level... then, they don't feel much pain either."

"It's worth it."

Lotor sat up. Lance's sweaty chest grew cold in the exposed air. Lance looked at Lotor's waist. Lotor wasn't wearing that obnoxious armor he wore every other day—but a thin cloth covering. Lance could see every muscle in his body now. The armor didn't do him much justice. 

"Lance?" Lotor asked, his hope adorably obvious. 

"I want to."

Lotor pulled Lance up so fast his head spun. His vision blacked out with a thousand fireworks. When his eyes cleared up, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Lotor had climbed onto the bed, but he wasn't touching Lance. 

"I really, really want to."

Lotor took a deep breath. He slipped off his thick jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. His top half was bare, all defined muscles and purple skin. Lance's hand reach out without his permission, touching the responsive muscles on Lotor's chest. Each one he touched danced under his hands. Lotor was ridiculously hot. 

"I wish I could've seen all this a minute ago." Lance inched forward, his knees touching Lotor's. "Not that I would have lasted."

Lotor kissed him. They were both smiling. Their only contact was through their faces and knees. It was sweet. Lance let his hands fly up, running along Lotor's chest. Lotor pushed his robe out of the way, but didn't slip it off his shoulders. Lance was glad Lotor could tell how nervous he still was. 

When Lotor undid his pants, Lance almost fainted. Lotor pulled Lance onto his lap, the position making Lance almost as tall as the galra prince. Lotor's cock was much Larger than Lance had expected. Though, Lance didn't know what he was imagining. 

Now that their cocks were lined up, Lance could see Lotor's was nearly twice as long, but not quite twice as thick. Nevertheless, it was a terrifying sight to behold. 

Lance wrapped one hand over the tip, hesitantly touching the pulsing flesh. Lotor let Lance get familiar with the alien genitalia. Eventually, he wrapped both hands around Lotor, applying light pressure and moving his hands up and down. As Lance touched Lotor, the prince kissed and sucked at his neck. Lance tried not to lose focus. He moved to kiss Lotor as well. He'd hoped to replicate how Lotor was kissing him, but he didn't have the confidence to pull it off. Lotor let his hands flick at Lance's chest, tweaking his nipples. When Lance arched his back, he squeezed Lotor's cock harder by mistake. Lotor's groan was delicious. 

Lance applied more pressure, running along the full length. Lotor panted loudly each time Lance cupped the base, so he put special force and attention there. Lotor started to whisper in his ear, instructing him on what to do; harder there, faster, flick your wrists, just like that...

Then, Lotor started chanting a new list in Lance's ear. He started to praise Lance—telling him how good he was doing—how good it felt.

Lotor leaned in, biting Lance's earlobe. "You're all _mine_."

Lance faltered. He lost the nice rhythm he'd built. Lotor grabbed both of Lance's hands and covered them with his hands. He guiding Lance's hands, moving harder and faster than Lance had before. Lotor's pants turned into moans. 

He grunted in Lance's here. "Mine—all mine."

Lotor finished—coating Lance's skin in a thick, sticky liquid. It was white, much like Lance's, but with the faintest blue tint and glow. 

Lotor wrapped his arms around Lance's body, pulling him in and resting his head on Lance's chest. Lance wiped his hands off on his robe before brushing Lotor's hair and massaging his scalp...

_...That was nearly three months ago._

*** * * * ***

Lance's gaze stayed trapped on the ring below. The 'waiting room' smelled like sweat, blood, and tears. Lance's skin was filthy and the itchy, fraying fabric clung to the open wounds in his skin. 

Lance growled. When he arrived, Lotor dressed him up. He showed him the largest, nicest room in the whole universe. The most beautiful bathroom with a ginormous Jacuzzi tub with more jets than he could count. The lighting in the bathroom complimented Lance's skin. The creams smelled fantastic, even from their containers. 

Lance gave up all that—for _this_. 

Lotor begged Lance to 'get in the right mindset' so they could be together. He'd wanted to be nice and gentle together—like before. Lance refused and pissed Lotor off. 

In many ways, Lance stood by his decision. Though, he didn't know it was a decision he was making. All he did was try and convince Lotor to set him free—he didn't know Lotor was going to throw him in the ring for a _month_. 

"You ready for your fight?" A young, half-galran prisoner asked. 

Nacxia (pronounced knock-SHY-a, as Lance learned the hard way) was up to fight in much larger circles, but they were housed in the same barracks. She got a bad rep, being galra. Her temper was out of control. She was quiet and hid herself away. A real lone-wolf type. She made Lance think that, maybe, the galra just didn't mix well with other species. Between her, Keith, Lotor, and all of Lotor's generals...

"Why do you ask?" Lance wondered. "Think I'm not being careful enough?"

"You aren't" 

"Come on," Lance complained. "I'm stalling my fights for as long as I can, but I can't get too exhausted."

Nacxia was convinced Lance was climbing the ranks too quickly. Last time someone was this interesting was the Champion... and Lance didn't really know much about what happened to Shiro in the ring. Based on the rumors, it was worse than he allowed the Paladins to believe. Lance was trying to make himself a less interesting entertainer, but he was hurting himself holding back.

"No," She scolded. "You're making it worse. You make it look like your playing with your opponents."

"Well, I appreciate the compliment."

"Just stop," She advised. "We're some of the only ones here who _clearly_ have previous combat experience... and you didn't get here by fighting for Zarkon."

Lance knew she was right. "What're you so worried about? My opponents will get harder and I'll become a better fighter?"

"This isn't a training exercise," she hissed. 

"Doesn't feel much different from one," Lance muttered. 

"Then you should've joined a better troop." She pat him on the shoulder. "Just... survive. And we'll talk about what happens next when it's finished."

*** * * * ***

After his fight, the barracks buzzed with panicked energy. The other fighters ran back and forth, hiding their precious few possessions and make-shift weapons. Lance didn't have much that he'd salvaged from fights, but he took their lead anyway. 

He hid his sharpened steak under a stone in the corner of the room. A couple of others rushed to hide their possessions with his. They exchanged nervous eye contact before rushing back to their mats. 

Lance caught Nacxia's attention. She was quiet and reserved—but that didn't fool him. Lance knew how to see through that (he'd had a lot of practice). Out of all the gladiators, she'd be the one who could explain what was going on. 

"You said we had something to discuss?" Lance gestured around them, wondering what brought on this panic.

She turned away from him, but didn't leave. "We entertained a large audience today. That means commanders, generals—even Zarkon. But someone special came today—to see you. I was worried. They probably want to sponsor you—I'm sure it'll be fine. But someone is on their way down here right now."

"On—on their way?"

"Someone is, probably not the same person." She sighed, grabbing his shoulder with care. "Listen, the new ones almost never get picked. The Generals have their favorites—it's how it works. And Sendak hasn't been seen in years; he was the worst. Just..."

Lance shivered, covering his exposed stomach. He ripped it during his last match. 

"Come on," Nacxia said. "You can borrow one of my shirts. It's best you not be noticeable. You may be new—but you fought well."

"You think someone might be coming to, what?" Lance sobbed. "Try me out? No, no thank you. I'm done with that."

"I'm sorry."

She grabbed his hand, dragging him over to her mat. She had all of her coverings neatly wrapped and bound with sturdy belts. She'd had the largest collection of them all but didn't have to worry about getting her stuff stolen. There was a rule against stealing in the barracks. You won what you fought for on the battlefield. 

"Take this." She handed him a filthy brown poncho.

"How flattering."

"That's the idea. Now, go stand in the corner with them. Us regulars will hang in the center and try to spare you all some... oh, no..."

Lance followed her gaze. She was completely paralyzed staring at the figure that had walked in. The guards parted and gave Lotor plenty of room. He was staring right at Lance. 

Lance's stomach swirled with a barrage of confusing emotions. At first, he was relieved. Lotor was here to take him out of this hell-hole. 

Lance gagged. _Lotor was here to take him out of this hell-hole._

"That's Lotor," She hissed in his ear. "You're a rebellion fighter, right?"

He nodded. "He's Zarkon's son. He took the throne when Zarkon was ill and... and saved the rebellion at the Battle of Naxzella."

"Or so we thought."

Lance turned around, not sure what explanation he had to offer her—but she was gone. 

Lotor waved him over. Lance planted his feet apart and folded his arms. He wasn't going to walk over to Lotor. He wasn't going to do anything for Lotor. 

"Make this easy for yourself," The Nacxia hissed from her mat. "No one's ever entertained Lotor before."

Lotor kept his expression calm. He approached slowly. All eyes in the room were on them now. He held out his hand for Lance to take. Lance held his breath. He'd forgotten how much taller Lotor was than him. 

Lotor eventually dropped his hand with an embarrassed look on his face. Lance smirked, a little pleased with himself. 

Instead, Lotor stepped forward. He fiddles with the edges of Lance's poncho. "This is new."

"He won it in a fight," Nacxia said.

Lotor hummed. "I must've missed that fight."

Lance looked at the floor. 

"Take her," Lotor ordered. 

"What?" Lance gasped. "You can't—"

"I can do whatever I want, sweet Lance." Lotor brushed his cheek. 

Lance shook his head in disbelief. He looked at her, trying to find a way to apologize. She looked shocked before she looked away, rising from the floor with her fists clenched. 

Lance tucked his hands into the poncho, his eyes welling with tears. "Please, don't—"

Lance stopped. She'd hidden a knife in this poncho. Why? So he could fight his way out if he was chosen? Maybe it was just a mistake. She probably had knives hidden in all of her clothes. That could help him. They could fight their way out of this. 

Every muscle in her body tensed.

 _No,_ she mouthed. 

Lotor's lips touched his ear. "Something I'm missing?"

Lance licked his lips. The guards were almost on her. He had to act now. He kicked his leg out, snaking his foot between Lotor's calves. He caught their ankles together and threw his whole body onto Lotor's. 

He was successful. Lotor lost his balance. He reached back to catch his fall, but Lance caught each of his wrists. He forced them to stay between them until Lotor fell on his back. Their heads collided with a crack; Lotor's head snapped against the concrete. Blood trailed from his lip. 

Lance released an uncontrollable laugh. He didn't think that would work. The guards had a grip on his arms and yanked him backward. Lance lost his hold on Lotor's arms as the guards propped him upright. Lance snaked his hands out of view and gripped the knife. It wasn't some shoddy piece of a pipe—it was a real weapon. With this, he could stand a chance against Lotor. He couldn't waste it on the guards. He needed to use it at the right moment. 

"Do not touch him!" Lotor demanded. 

The guards froze, their hands still on Lance. Lotor kicked his knee. Lance cried out, falling forward as a devastating _pop_ rang in his ears. Lotor clutched his shoulders. 

"He's _mine_."

Lance tried to shake free of Lotor, but screamed as his leg moved. The guards snapped out of their confusion and moved to the woman. She stayed still—along with everyone else in the barracks. Lance wanted to cry. Why couldn't they fight back? They were all elite fighters trained in the ring or trained on the battlefield, they could take these guys. 

Lotor threw Lance to the side. They rolled on the floor and switched positions. Lance tightened his grip around the blade, clenching his eyes and groaning in fake pain. It worked, Lotor's grip slackened. Just one sharp move—around the poncho and under Lotor's chest plate. Lance's thumb grazed the space where the handle met the blade and felt an inscribed symbol. 

The Blade of Marmora. 

Lance rolled his head, gagging and opening his eyes. He caught the eye of the Blade, her expression deadly calm and insistent. Lance sobbed. He would blow Nacxia's cover if he drew the knife. She gave him the poncho to protect him—yes—but also to send a message. She knew he was a Paladin; she was on his side. 

"I'm sorry," Lance cried.

He meant it—he hadn't realized he'd risked her position here. Now she was getting taken god knows where and it was all his fault. 

"You will be," Lotor snarled.

He rose, casually tossing his hair back over his shoulder. He fiddled with the components on his gloves, clearly trying to gain his composure. 

Lance did his best to stand on his own. He took the poncho off, careful to keep the knife concealed. He'd never be able to hide it from Lotor. It was better off here. He cast the poncho back onto the Blade's mat, doing his best to glare at Lotor to keep him from noticing. 

The Blade sent a grateful look over her shoulder as she was dragged from the room. 

Lotor picked wiped the blood from his chin with his thumb. He inspected his hand closely. His deadly gaze rose to meet Lance. Lance was standing on his toes, leaning on his good leg. He was ready to pounce at any moment...

Except he couldn't attack. He'd have to give in to protect the Nacxia and the blade. Lance's whole body sagged. 

Lotor chuckled. He stood over Lance, his sword drawn. His hand cupped the back of Lance's neck. 

"I yield," Lance mumbled. 

"Good," Lotor seethed. "Now, let's try this again, shall we?"


	8. Gravity

**Lance**

* * *

An entire ship deck of closets was not the fate Lance thought he was headed for. Each room held a specific type of item inside, with more rooms connecting to each one. He found an entire chamber full of this _one particular_ style of galra vest. Not to mention all of the other vest rooms extending beyond that. 

Lance figured he should look for the belt room. Maybe he can tie Lotor up and strap him to a table until he changed his mind and took him back. 

_Or you could wrap it around his neck._ A tiny voice inside him whispered. 

But Lance wasn't going to do that. Not only would he not make it passed the guards—as his little battle earlier has proved—but he had no idea where the Green Lion was. If Lance set the Green Lion free, would they turn around and rescue him? Would they even try to fly away? No.

Lance's best shot was with the Paladins. They had driven into the heart of Galra HQ (with the help of the Blade of Marmora) to rescue Allura. They'd come for him. 

That is... if Shiro told them what happened. 

Lance felt like throwing up again. No matter how many times he replayed that night in his head, he couldn't fathom why Shiro let Lotor take him away. Did Lance pass out for the fight? Did Lotor _kill_ Shiro?

Lance sobbed, covering his mouth and dropping to his knees. He hadn't considered that possibility before. 

Lance felt a hand rubbing his lower back. Strong arms pulled him against a sturdy chest. Lance leaned into Lotor, sobbing into his chest. 

It didn't make any sense. Lotor was probably the one who killed Shiro. Lotor was the one who took Lance away. Lotor was the one who hurt him on the Green Lion. Lance's entire life has been upended the moment he took that doomed elevator down to see the enigmatic galra prince. And yet, he leaned into his captor's arms.

Lance needed a shoulder to cry on—any shoulder. He'd been fighting in the ring for two months. He hadn't slept or taken a real shower in all that time. He'd been fed better than the other prisoners on Lotor's orders but... every extra bite he took tasted like cement. 

Lance wrapped his arms around Lotor as the galra shushed him reverently.

Lotor kissed Lance's hair. "It's okay, it's okay..."

Lance squeezed Lotor, noting the satisfied hum Lotor gave. Maybe that was the only way Lance would survive for the Paladins to find him. Even if Shiro was dead, the Paladins would notice Lance disappeared when Lotor did. 

If Lance played nice and stuck close to Lotor Keith would find him. After all, Keith was an expert on tracking Lotor. He left the team to track a stream of quintessence that was directly connected to Lotor. Keith would find him. 

"Do you want me to help you?" Lotor asked. 

"it's just... it's a lot to take in." Lance wasn't lying. 

Lotor laughed, pushing Lance away and caressing his face. "Poor Lance, I'm going to spoil you so much."

Lance glanced at Lotor's lips. How far was Lance going to have to take this? Lotor obviously expected Lance to continue on as they had in the castle. 

Lotor noticed Lance staring. He smiled, leaning in and giving Lance a long kiss on the cheek. He held Lance's head in both hands, planting chaste kisses down his jaw until he reached his neck. Lance tried to shift his position discreetly, but Lotor's grip was tight. 

Lotor hugged Lance, his head resting on Lance's shoulders. "Did you miss me?"

Lance took a deep breath. He needed to play along and be nice. "You threw me in the ring for _two months_."

Lotor frowned. 

"I counted every day and waited for you. What took you so long?" Lance cried, burning tears warming his face. "I counted every fight; every kill!"

Lotor wiped the tears off Lance's face. "I'm so sorry. You have suffered Lance, I know that. But you are strong."

Lance jerked his head away, smacking Lotor's hands. Lotor didn't force him to return to his embrace. He waited patiently while Lance cried. 

"You know why I did what I did?" Lotor asked. "You understand why this had to happen?"

Lance sobbed. He didn't have the strength the answer that question out loud. Instead, Lance did the only thing he could do to save what little remained of his pride. He threw himself into Lotor's arms, hiding his face from the demanding prince. 

Lotor didn't push Lance to answer. They both knew why. Lotor did this to him so he wouldn't fight him. 

"You can fight, Lance," Lotor said. "Just don't fight me."

_What was that supposed to mean?_

"Okay."

Lotor brushed Lance's hair, pulling away and examining his face closely. 

"Come on." He offered his hand. "Let's get you out of those rags."

"For good?" Lance wondered, his heart flying at a thousand beats per minute. 

Lotor raised an eyebrow.

"For good?" Lance pressed. "Or just for the night... as your trophy?"

"That depends on the night."

Lance flinched. What was going to happen if he didn't play this right? What if Lance didn't please him? Or, an even scarier possibility, what if Lance was too eager and Lotor thought he was faking?

And if Lotor isn't satisfied with the middle ground?

Lance curled in on himself, shivering. He waited for Lotor to comfort him again, but the man didn't make a move. Lance followed him in a daze while Lotor showed him around the closets with more promise and direction. Lance mutely nodded as Lotor displayed several items of clothing for Lance, his expression and excitement never faltering. 

Lotor finally stepped forward, grabbing Lance's hand. "I'm sorry I ripped apart your clothes. I should've controlled myself better. But we have to find you something more suitable."

"I just..." Lance wracked his brain for something to say; an excuse. "I'm filthy. I have blood in my hair and my skin is sticky."

"Of course," Lotor declared. "Why don't you walk with me?"

Lance obeyed, following Lotor like a loyal dog. Lotor brought Lance to a large, white and teal bathroom. Four galra sentries were in Lance's sight—possibly with more around the corner. 

"Normally, I'd have my best servants give you a proper scrub." Lotor stood behind Lance and rubbed his shoulders. "But we can't take that risk right now... So these sentries will be staying here with you, and you'll have to wash yourself."

Lance could feel his shoulders tensing up, even with Lotor giving him a massage. 

"I'll have you sent to my quarters once you've finished."

Lance looked at one of the sentries by the back. He wasn't sporting the usual rifle, he had a long blade. Another had something similar to a crossbow. Another, a spear. They were real—not robots.

"Wait," Lance stuttered. 

"They are all elite fighters, trained for hundreds of years. In a fight against ten of me... One of them would win." Lotor leaned down, whispering a grave warning in Lance's ear. "And you've yet to defeat me."

Lance swallowed. "I understand."

"Good, now take all the time you desire in the world."

Lotor turned to leave. Lance found himself staring through the helmets of the soldiers, their glowing eyes analyzing him back. 

"Lotor?" Lance called out desperately. "Wait."

Lotor turned back, an annoyingly cute question painted on his face. 

"I can't change in front of living people..." Lance explained. "I need—I just can't."

Lotor folded his arms, staring at Lance with an unreadable expression. "They are trained well, Lance. And not just in fighting. They're no more than statues—decorations, if you will."

Lance crossed his arms over his exposed stomach, wishing more than ever that it hadn't ripped in the fight. If this made him feel exposed, Lance knew there was no way he would ever be able to bathe himself. 

"Fine," Lotor decided, clearly running out of patience. "Then I'll pick an outfit for you all by myself and—"

"That's—" Lance stepped closer, placing both hands on Lotor's chest. "not what I meant."

Lotor smiled, something dark and hungry in his eyes. He grabbed a hold of Lance's broken shirt and ripped it open, turning it into a vest. 

Even Lance didn't truly understand the reasoning behind his decision. He didn't want to be watched, so he invited more people to the party. Maybe being around Lotor was different. Although Lotor had only seen him fully naked once, so there was still a dangerous element of _unknown_ to this. 

"Well," Lance reasoned. "You said I would normally get the finest servants to scrub me down. So do it."

Lotor bit his lip, a blush rising to his face. "If you insist."

*** * * * ***

Something felt _off_. 

Lance was on top of the world. He had lost over a hundred layers of dirt and blood under the cool scrub of Lotor's scentless soaps. He was dressed in soft, fluffy robes and slippers. His step was lighter and happier than it had been in a while. Something was off because this was the first time in a long while that he didn't feel _wrong_. 

Lance was wandering aimlessly around the quarters Lotor had reserved for their time together. Many floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the stars. Lance didn't recognize the constellation below them; his main expertise was the stars around Earth. He had never been able to match his astrology skills to the worlds he had traveled since. 

"The Thuyseria galaxy," Lotor announced, handing Lance a glass of white liquid. 

"Is that where we are?" Lance asked, holding the glass against his chest—out of Lotor's sight—as naturally as he could.

"No." Lotor stood behind Lance. He grabbed Lance's elbow, touching him so naturally Lance didn't feel like pulling away. "That's what that is. I brought us here to see it: a micro galaxy."

"A micro... So where are we?" Lance asked. "What are all these stars and planets around us?"

"A galaxy within a galaxy," Lotor explained. "That galaxy is on a revolving course... what it's orbiting around, we don't know—something beyond our understanding."

"Ten thousand years of space exploration and it's beyond your understanding?"

Lotor smiled. "That galaxy has a stronger gravitational pull of anything we have ever seen, including black holes. It's moving on a fixed, circular course... but our math determines the center of that course is far beyond our reach."

Lotor snapped his fingers. The lights around him dimmed slowly before shutting off. In the dark, Lance's eyes began to adjust to see more stars. The galaxy below was bright and intoxicating. 

"It's orbiting something," Lance guessed. "Something so far away, it's out of the galra's reach. No other force of gravity changes its course."

Lotor leaned in, touching Lance's chin. "I had hoped you'd find this beautiful... I had no idea you had an interest—or even knowledge of..."

Lance cocked his head. "So... what? 'I'm smarter than I look but not that smart?'" Lance paraphrased. 

Lotor sighed. "I am sorry I said those things. I had to convince my father you weren't a threat to us."

"And being the red paladin guarantees that?" 

"In my father's eyes... yes. King Alfor was his greatest friend, then his most hated enemy. His battle with Keith the night you and your friends almost took his life only solidified his fears."

Lance felt his heart flutter with worry. "So I pilot Blue, got it."

Lotor kissed his forehead suddenly. "I'm glad."

Lance blinked. Lotor had kissed him so quickly he hadn't prepared for it. And he didn't feel surprised now. 

Lance watched Lotor's throat bob as he took a sip of his drink. In the dark Lance couldn't see the liquid in Lotor's glass, but he could see his own. Lotor had given Lance a different drink—something glowing blue. Lotor watched Lance inspect the glass with reserved calm. Lotor snapped his fingers and turned on the lights. 

Lance tightened his grip on the glass, changing the subject as quickly as possible. "You know, I'm not just some kid from Earth that flew away with a lion to fight in the rebellion."

Lotor frowned. "I thought you said you discovered the Blue Lion in the desert of your world—with no prior knowledge of Voltron."

"That was true." Lance turned away. Maybe he could pour the drink into a plant? "But I didn't just find the blue lion. I was in a space exploration program. I was a trained pilot beforehand—if I do say so myself."

"Really?" Lotor's intrigue was obvious.

"Yeah," Lance said, his mouth dry. 

Lance was running out of ideas. There were no plants and no sinks. Lotor was in a good move after their time together in the bath. Lance couldn't risk losing that now. 

Lance frowned. This night had been nerve-wracking in so many ways. Lance was terrified and nervous in the bath but he didn't hate it entirely. 

Lance raised the cup to his lips. He took the faintest slip, his mouth sparking alive at the slightest contact. Lance swallowed, the aftertaste not bitter or sweet but buzzing with flavor. 

Lotor grabbed Lance's arm again, pushing it up to raise the cup back to Lance's lips.

"All of it," Lotor whispered. 

Lance nodded shakily. His lips trembled as they felt the cool edge of the cup. He chugged down another small sip, then another. Lotor placed a steady hand on the cup, tilting it higher. 

Lance jerked his head away, nearly dropping the glass. "Wait."

"No, Lance," Lotor complained. "Don't tell me to wait."

"No," Lance gasped. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry. I just meant... I'll drink it. Just, let me breathe."

Lotor paused, his pupils darting to look at each of Lance's eyes. He leaned away, nodding gently. 

Lance took a shaky breath. He didn't feel weak—he felt strong. he could feel power surging through his veins; it made him uneasy. 

A spurt of warmth spread through Lance's chest to his arms. His feet felt numb. His face grew hot, a blush rising through his cheeks, nose, and ears. 

Lotor spun Lance to face him. He rubbed Lance's arms gently while he caught his breath. Lotor brushed his lips against Lance's. Lance couldn't help the way his body responded. His back arched and his chest jumped forward. Lotor laughed maniacally, guiding Lance to the couch facing the window.

"Take deep breaths, Lance." Lotor kissed his cheek. "The galra's information of your species is very limited; only Haggar was able to acquire insights into your physiology."

Lance looked at the drink in his hands. Was this going to kill him? Lance started to breathe heavy; more out of panic than a willingness to follow Lotor's orders. He'd given him something Haggar cooked up. Lotor's hand was steady on his back. Lance didn't know what was in the drink—what Lotor was trying to prepare him for—but he knew he couldn't finish it. 

Lance got an idea. If Lotor was so convinced that this drink was going to be too much for Lance, then Lance could find a way to spin that. 

Lance forced every muscle in his body to grow stiff. He let his hand tremble, the liquid in the glass swirling uncontrollably. Lance released his grip and dropped the glass. It didn't shatter. It merely bounced and spilled the glowing liquid on the floor. 

"Lance?" Lotor asked, his tone laced with concern—and anger. 

Lance leaned forward, happily letting Lotor catch him and hold him up. Lance blinked, looking back at Lotor. He couldn't do this all at once. He shook his head as if he were coming out of a daze. Lance steadied himself. 

"I'm sorry," Lance breathed. "Let's sit?"

Lotor nodded. His anger melted away and turned to deep concern. He grabbed Lance's hand and tried walking him to the couch. 

_Go limp, go limp,_ Lance's brain ordered. 

Lance let his legs turn to jelly, praying he didn't hit the floor too hard. Lotor caught him, his reflexes fast as ever. 

"Lance! Lance?" Lotor sounded terrified. 

Lance's veins were on fire. He felt stronger than ever. He'd managed to avoid drinking that whole glass, but maybe that was a mistake. Maybe with that drink, Lance would've had the power to finally take Lotor in a fight. Then, possibly the four trained super assassins guarding this room. 

Too late for that now. Lance had committed. 

Lance forced himself to stand again, making sure he only put the faintest effort into working his muscles. It was hard, restraining his muscles as they burned with power. When Lance opened his eyes, he made sure to keep them lazy; unfocused. He grabbed at Lotor's robe, his fingers dainty and loose.

In possibly the most genius part of his act thus far, Lance looked into Lotor's eyes. Lance let the smallest smile creep onto his face; a dazed expression of love and compassion. This way, if Lance's plan failed, Lotor couldn't punish him too harshly. Lotor let his guard down. Lance took advantage of the opportunity. He released the tension in his muscles, letting gravity work its magic. Lance felt his body hit the floor; but he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel himself anymore—but he felt _everything_. His body started to tremble and his face began to sweat. That wasn't part of his act; whatever Lotor put into his system was starting to mess him up for real. 

Lotor barked orders at the assassins watching over them. They rushed out of the room, running to get medical help. Lance kept his breathing even, making sure to keep as still and loose as possible. He was supposed to be asleep, now. Lotor had to believe that. 

Lotor brushed Lance's hair away from his face. Lance's hair was damp with sweat. Lotor's fingers were gentle. "Stay strong Lance, help is on the way."

And once they took Lance away from Lotor, he was going to escape.


	9. A New Life

**Lance**

* * *

Lotor took Lance to the hospital wing. It wasn't the same place Lance had been to before—where they treated the fighters. This place was nicer in every way. Lotor set Lance down on the table. Lance had a moment where he thought _maybe this was a bad idea_ when the doctors injected something into Lance's veins. 

A wave of warmth spread throughout his body, taking all the pain away. He smiled gently, not flinching when he felt Lotor's hand cup his cheek. Lance registered only the soft, purple galra lights behind the looming figure above him. They told Lotor to back away. He obeyed.

Lance's senses shut down, detaching all sensations from his body. Lance felt like he was falling. He reached out blindly in a panic, his hands clutching at empty space. 

He heard a lot of yelling.

Lance felt his fingers wrap around something very physical and very real.

"Squeeze," Someone with a familiar accent whispered.

Lance didn't want to. It felt so much easier to just relax, but he managed to focus his energy. He squeezed Lotor's hand. He was just messing with Lotor before—trying to get out of something he didn't want to do. It felt clever at the time, but now Lance was in real danger. What if they killed him trying to save him from a medical emergency he wasn't having? 

"Good, now harder."

Lance shook his head. At least, he meant to. Lance didn't feel his body move.

"Harder, Lance. _What are you doing_..."

Lance heard Lotor's voice change, his accent slipping away.

Lance could hear himself then, calling out even though he didn't feel like he was moving. He heard his voice so clearly but he didn't open his mouth. "Help! Help! Help!"

The voice echoed throughout the halls with much more strength than Lance thought he could manage.

He mumbled under his breath. "I need help..."

The next thing Lance remembered thinking was about not dying. He needed help... He felt like he was being sucked out into space—losing himself in the void.

_Lance was trapped in an airlock. He couldn't free his mind any more than he could free his body. He slammed his fists on the airlock door. Keith was on the other side, getting attacked by a training bot gone mad._

Lance could feel sensations returning to his body; the memory more powerful than medicine. As soon as he could, he forced the words out—deep and cracked, but intelligible. "Keith... Keith, come on..." 

Lance felt a cool substance enter his bloodstream. it was the first real sensation Lance had felt since Lotor knocked him out. Lance fell back into the dark numbness again, his instant of sensation gone. 

*** * * * ***

When he finally opened his eyes, Lotor's fingers covered gently his hand. He followed the arm of soft, lavender skin and found a mop of white hair falling elegantly to the ground. 

Lance wasn't gripped ear at the sight of Lotor—not like on the ship. Lance remembered the warm presence he'd felt as he was falling asleep. He calmly pulled his hand away from Lotor's—the heat beginning to feel uncomfortable. He moves to touch his head, trying to make the action appear natural. 

Lance touched the back of his hand to his forehead and kept his gaze on Lotor. He slowly but surely came out of his hazy state to realize what was happening. He put his hand down and bolted upright—freezing the moment he realized it would hurt to move. Lotor misunderstood the action and grabbed Lance's shoulders, lifting him so he could sit up all the way. Lance expected pain, but he felt none. There wasn't a hint of ache or hunger anywhere on him. He felt better than he had in months. 

Lance blinked, taking in the surrounding room. He was definitely in a hospital bed. The sheets were soft and pale, falling over the sides of his bed. The bed was a slab in the middle of the room, surrounded by equipment on light gray shelves. The lighting was white, not pink or purple like any other room Lance had seen so far.

Lance looked back at Lotor, afraid of what would happen if he didn't acknowledge the prince soon. The prince looked strangely pleased despite the situation. 

"Lance?" Lotor broke the silence.

Lance's throat suddenly felt dry. Lotor would give him a new order. Lotor would force Lance to sleep with him—or bathe with him; that was on the table now. Lance had to play nice over drinks. Maybe Lance could pretend to be sick for a few days. He could move sluggishly and act confused and delicate. 

Except that wasn't an option, not anymore. Lotor would know he's faking. Lance had to play his cards right. He'd used the delicate human card to avoid drinking that scary glowing stuff. He had to save his act for moments when he was in _real_ danger. Lance would have to make hard choices like that to survive; yield now and survive for later. 

For the moment, the pain was over... Lotor would ruin that soon. 

It wasn't about winning or losing anymore. Lotor couldn't only take his reward after Lance lost their sparing battle. Lance was _his_ now. This would be his life until the paladins rescued him. 

"Lance, talk to me," Lotor pleaded. 

"What—what do you want..." Lance found it unbearably hard to finish his sentence, so he whispered it. "What do you want me to say?" 

Lotor rose slowly; as if Lance were an animal he would scare away. That's what Lance felt like. Lance braced his hands on the bed and eased himself backward, shrinking away from Lotor's threatening gaze. Lotor sat on the edge of the bed, twisting his body to face Lance. Lotor captured Lance's face in his hands, pulling their heads together.

Lance caught his breath. It would be okay. 

_You can do this,_ Lance reminded himself. It seemed, with his friends nowhere in sight, his inner monologue was his only solace. 

Lance tensed his back, his shoulders arching and his spine curving. Lotor's unbelievably soft skin touched his own. He smelled sweet, like sugar. 

_You can do this._

"Tell me you won't do this to me ever again," Lotor begged softly, but Lance could hear the danger behind his words. 

Lance shook, tears streaming down his face. Lotor knew he was faking. That was the only explanation. 

What if he wasn't? Lance couldn't admit he'd faked it or Lance would cram that drink down that throat. But if he didn't admit it and Lotor already knew... 

Lance needed Lotor to like him; to be kind to him. If Lance couldn't get away with lying to him, Lance would have to play by Lotor's rules. 

He relaxed, leaning into Lotor's embrace. "I'm sorry," He said. 

"Sorry? Sorry?!" Lotor clutched his face so hard it hurt. "I don't want to hear you're sorry! Don't tell me you're sorry!"

"I—I—I—" Lance panicked.

"Don't! Just... just tell me you won't do it again."

Lance froze, opening his eyes and staring up at Lotor in fear. 

"I won't!" He swore.

Lotor took a deep breath. "Don't lie! I can tell when you're lying!"

Lotor's voice broke. 

"I'm sorry... _My prince_ ," Lance added. Lotor opened his eyes, looking hopefully at Lance. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Lotor's eyes turned cold. "You don't know what you were thinking?"

Lotor twisted Lance's arm. Lance's chest pushed against Lotor's armor. His eyes welled up. 

Lance opened his mouth in shock. "I—I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry. Please believe me—" 

Lotor grabbed Lance's throat, pulling his neck up at an uncomfortable angle. Lance gagged, his lungs screaming. Lotor's grip was painful and unforgiving.

"Why lie? What do you gain by lying?"

"I don't know—"

"Lance, why?!"

"I don't know!" Lance screamed. "I don't know! I don't know! Please, I don't know what I did wrong!"

Lotor dropped him. Lance's head hit the firm bed below him. 

He sobbed, his voice quivering. "I don't know what I did wrong..."

Lotor stared at him for a moment. Lotor absentmindedly rubbed his hands. "You really don't..." 

Lotor climbed off the bed. He held his hands out for Lance to grab. Lance took them hesitantly, letting Lotor pull him off the bed. Lance's bare feet touched the warm floor. 

"From now on, if you have a question," Lotor growled. "ask it."

Lance nodded. "Uh, okay, my prince."

Lotor's hands loosened after Lance called him that. Lance smiled, maybe he could get under Lotor's skin if he played his cards right. Lotor's face grew hopeful when Lance smiled. Lotor covered it up immediately, but Lance saw. Lance was just starting to understand how badly Lotor wanted him. Lance always thought he was unwanted; unlovable. Lotor had been reassuring Lance all this time that he was desirable; beautiful. Now, Lance wanted more than anything to be hideous. He felt hideous. 

Lotor guided Lance to the door. Lance's feet faltered of their own accord. Every time Lance tried to force his body to follow orders, it refused him.

"Where are we going?"

"The healing process is heavily chemical... I ordered the nurses not to hose you down."

"Why?" Lance asked, his voice softening. That was nice, right?

Lotor turned away, dragging Lance by one hand through the door. "Because I wanted to, step in."

Lance looked at the shower station Lotor had pointed out. It was remarkably similar to one from earth; it had lots of space to move and clear doors. Lotor wanted to hose Lance down. By some miracle, Lance's first reaction wasn't to be repulse. He kept himself in check. 

"Lotor?"

"Step in," Lotor ordered. 

Lance closed his eyes. This was easy. And this time, there were no guards watching; only Lotor. He took his shirt off, leaving his hospital pants on as he climbed into the shower.

"Those as well," Lotor ordered.

"Lotor," Lance's pleaded. "I don't want to." 

"Do it," Lotor said calmly. "or I'll do it for you." 

Lance pinched his lips, fighting off tears. "I'll do it, okay? I—I just want to be alone." 

Lotor's head twitched to the side. "Do it. Or I'll come in, rip those close off, and do whatever else to you I please."

That meant that Lotor wasn't planning on doing anything to Lance. He was supervising... Lance hoped.

Lance took off his pants, revealing himself entirely to Lotor. He kicked the clothes out with surprising calmness. "Is that what I did wrong? You poisoned me and I did something wrong?" 

Lotor stepped forward, slamming his hand on the glass. "I may have made a mistake, giving you that drink. I thought they diluted it enough; I was wrong. But you..." Lotor seethed, his argument failing him. 

"You almost killed me," Lance hissed defiantly.

Lotor snapped his head back, looking genuinely shocked and surprised. Had no one ever defied Lotor before? Had Lance just broken his shot at staying with Lotor? If he had, he was going back to the ring. He would fight for his life on a biweekly basis and spent his time after in Lotor's arms. Lance couldn't do that. He didn't have the strength. No matter how guilty he felt for escaping the ring and leaving the others behind, he didn't want to go back. 

Lotor waited, staring at Lance from the other side of the glass. "Turn it on, the solution will remove the chemicals for you." 

"What?" Lance challenged. "Nothing else to say? No comeback?" 

"If I told you what I was thinking, you'd blush... And you don't deserve to feel flattered right now."

Lance felt something swirl in his stomach, right below his ribs. He turned before Lotor could see his face turn red. 

Lotor must have turned on the shower. Warm water poured down Lance's coarse skin.

Was Lance winning this fight? Lotor meant to abuse Lance in his quarter's—Lance escaped it. He felt like he was in even more danger than before. Lance has made Lotor anxious and angry. Was this a victory or a loss? If Lance could win these little mind-battles, Lotor couldn't touch him. 

Lance's optimism diminished. Lotor would always win. Lotor would win and Lance would wind up as his plaything. Lotor used to touch him in aggressive ways to punish him for failing on the training deck. But what Lotor did to him in the green lion... 

"You're crying, sweet Paladin." 

"I'm fine," Lance said, his tears mingling with the water from the shower. 

"It's okay, Lance. The punishment is over. You're done. Just don't make me do it again." 

Lance turned to face away from Lotor. He started shivering under the warm water. 

"Lance?" Lotor asked. 

"Hm?" Lance grunted. 

"Please, Yield."

Lance scoffed. "Now?!"

He spun around, glaring up at Lotor.

"We're not fighting, not here. I won't yield without a fight; that's not how this is going to work." 

Lotor raised his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip as he did. 

Lotor stepped closer to the shower. "Lance... Next time, if I'm winning—you must accept defeat. Don't make me force it on you again. Please, young sharpshooter—promise you'll yield."

"I won't lose, Lotor." Lance turned back around.

"Lance? When you do, don't make me break you."

When Lance turned back around with tears in his eyes. Lotor wasn't there.

*** * * * ***

Lance fought with everything he had. He swung his new sword, blocking every strike Lotor rained down on him. Lance was inexperienced with a sword—it was always Keith's thing. But Lotor told him that fighting with one might make him better in combat. 

He was right. Ever since Lance started training with Lotor, he'd gotten so much better at fighting. He was holding his own with pride.

But Lotor would win. He would always win.

Just as Lance had the thought, Lotor had it to—increasing his intensity until Lotor had Lance disarmed. Lotor held his sword to Lance's throat. A silent question. 

Lance didn't yield, he just stood there. 

"Lance," Lotor hissed.

Lance closed his eyes... He'd failed to escape when Lotor put him in the hospital—when he put _himself_ in the hospital. And his friends had yet to come for him. It had been _weeks_ of this now. Training with Lotor all the time; being called to his room to spend the night without warning. Lance was starting to prefer the Gladiator Pit. 

"Lance," Lotor pressed. 

"What?" Lance whispered, his voice growing in confidence as he spoke. "Will you cut me? Will you cut my neck like you did my face?"

"Lance, yield." Lotor pressed the tip of his sword to Lance's throat.

Lance's voice was cracked and rough, the sword cutting his air when he spoke. "I yield."

Lotor dropped the sword. "Really?"

Lance nodded. He could tell Lotor didn't expect it from him, but what could Lance do? Stand there and take a beating? No. There was more than one way to win. Lance would survive. He'd have to live to fight another day.

His heart still buzzed in his chest—his body in fight-or-flight mode—but Lance denied it both options. He ignored his basic human instincts. Run. Hide. Fight.

Yield.

_This was his life now._


	10. Left Behind

**Keith**

* * *

Keith had become a useless blob after Lance rejected him. 

Not gonna lie, Keith didn't think he was the type to fall apart over a boy. Yet, here he was, laying in bed for hours after waking; day after day. His hair was messy and unwashed. Keith chewed his fingernails to stubs. He laid staring at his limp hand, nothing but the pain to occupy his mind. 

Lance was no ordinary boy. Keith fell for him in every way imaginable. Lance was smart; smarter than anyone gave him credit for. The blue paladin could adapt to their surroundings with grace. A blue paladin could accommodate every new scenario as easily as water flowing through a tunnel. Lance was scrappy. He took his surroundings and used them to his advantage. 

Keith had suffered in his short life. Keith never had a mom, and he lost his dad. Everyone called his dad a hero; Keith didn't. In Keith's eyes, his dad abandoned him. His father was a trained fireman who went _against_ his orders and ran into a fire deemed too dangerous. If he had succeeded—if he'd survived—then he would've been a brave hero, sure. But he didn't. He died in that building; leaving Keith an orphan. 

Keith's life in the home was not a good one. His first set of foster parents were horrible; they took advantage of him and hurt him in ways that damaged him for good. They labelled Keith a 'problem child' and threw him into a group home. Group homes were nothing more than prisons for children; places where both the children and adults around you were your enemy. 

Shiro saved his life. He didn't just get Keith out of that place; he gave him the chance at a new life. 

When Keith joined Voltron, he found himself in another group setting. Unknowns surrounded Keith—except for Lance. Keith knew Lance. Lance was the boy who harassed him. Lance was the kid who never let Keith be. No matter how much Keith struggled in the Garrison, Lance was always there to make it worse. 

Keith and Lance mastered the art of hating each other. Why was Keith surprised that Lance didn't want him? 

*** * * * ***

On the third morning, Keith pulled himself out of bed on time for morning drills. He hadn't showered and there were bags under his eyes. He didn't look the part, but he was up and moving. That's what mattered. 

Keith took a few leisurely laps on the track, the taller Marmorans lapping him faster than they usually did. He let them, ignoring their curious glances as he worked the tightness out of his muscles. 

He stopped, taking an abrupt break to stretch. He rubbed his muscles, held some poses, and got some water. When he hit the track again, he was back to himself. He sped up. Keith's head wasn't fully back in action. His pace picked up. He didn't have the presence of mind to slow himself down and conserve energy. 

Keith lapped the other Marmorans on the track. He continued until the alarm blared and released them for private training. Keith took an extra lap or two before getting an early breakfast. 

Kolivan and the other leaders were in the cafeteria. Keith ignored them as he scrapped a couple extra pieces of bacon onto his plate. He wanted to work extra hard today to make up for lost time. He kept the bread and water low and filled up on meat and eggs. 

Keith ate slowly at first, savoring each bite. He scarfed down the rest and left his plate to be cleared away. Kolivan nodded at Keith as he left. 

Keith trained with their most excellent swordsman for a couple hours. He had become one of the best in the many months he'd been here. He was proud of himself. He moved to the active shooting range. His skills as a swordsman were refined; his skills as a marksman... not so much. Up close, he could hit moving targets reliably enough. But Keith's accuracy _seriously_ suffered after a certain distance. Whatever Lance did to train his craft... Keith never gave him enough credit for it (not that he ever would). 

Keith retired to lunch, then the swimming pool. Kolivan met Keith in the lockers. Kolivan's full suit of armor shined awkwardly in the steam. 

"Kolivan," Keith tried not to smile. 

"Keith," His voice was uncomfortably gentle.

"Look, I know I've been off—"

"This isn't a lecture."

"Oh."

Kolivan looked down, his resolve breaking. "Whatever happened on your last visit..." Kolivan met Keith's eyes. His face hardened. "I trust it won't interfere with your tasks?"

Keith shook his head. "It won't."

"Good, you're dismissed."

Keith looked around the locker room. Kolivan sighed. "You know what I meant."

Keith grabbed his towel; he was laughing as he entered the pool. 

*** * * * ***

About a week had passed and Kolivan hadn't given him a new mission. Keith remembered their conversation in the lockers. Was Kolivan grounding him because of what happened? Everyone knew something happened to Keith on his last visit to Voltron. Keith didn't say what. He thought he was doing good all things considering. Keith had half a mind to demand a mission to prove it. 

Except that's not what people do when they're _okay_. 

Keith was staring at the ceiling, going through the checklist of things he had to keep doing; eat, sleep, drink, talk to people, shower, exercise, train... He took a deep breath. This passed week his lungs felt tired; overburdened. Every beat of his heart felt tired and heavy. 

He pulled his tablet out from under his mattress. As far as hiding spots went, it wasn't clever. But the Marmorans were helpless at the mercy of common human tricks. 

Keith powered it up and waited for his messages to load. Nothing from Lance; but lots from his friends. 

Allura  
 _Lance has been distracted_ _lately. It didn't take long for me to connect it to you. Feel like_ _making it right so we can form Voltron again?_

Hunk   
_You left in a hurry. I'm worried about you. Are you okay?_

Pidge   
_What did you do?_

Shiro   
_Did Lance say anything?_

_Did you make it back all right?_

_Lance is doing okay. I thought you should know that._

_I'm here if you ever need anything._

_Hey, I know it hasn't been that long but we can't form Voltron. Lance has some kind of block. Do you think you could talk to him again? He's shutting us out._

_I just don't know who else to go to._

Keith's heart ached. He normally checked up on his friends every couple weeks; never too often. But they were messaging him a lot more than normal. Was Lance hurting as badly as he was? Maybe Lance wanted to be with him, but was too afraid to admit it. Maybe something made him hesitate. 

Keith drafted a message to Lance. What should he say?

 _Are you okay?_ Keith considered it, but what if that made things worse? Would that be rude? What about _I'm not okay, how are you?_ That didn't seem to cut it, either. Keith didn't want Lance to feel guilty. Instead,

Keith messaged Coran. He was never one to hedge, so he wrote: _I asked Lance to be with me and he rejected me._ Keith hit send before he could change his mind. 

_Instant_ regret. 

Keith groaned, laying back on his bed and covering the tablet so he couldn't see Coran's response. He peeked at the screen a few times. Before he knew it, he was refreshing the feed a hundred times. Coran wasn't responding. Only five minutes had passed since Keith sent the message. 

Keith refused to stare at a blank screen for any longer. He took a walk. 

*** * * * ***

Over the next few weeks, Keith sent Lance over twenty messages. Just random little things. Things like: _Kolivan showed my face the mat today_ and _I am officially the third shortest Blade_ and, curse Keith's heart _, I miss you._

Lance never responded to him. Even Coran didn't send Keith any messages. Keith assumed he was giving him space., Keith wasn't _trying_ to confide in Coran. Keith only told Coran what he did so he could help Lance. Coran knew Keith. He was probably trying to give Keith space. Keith didn't realize he wanted _someone_ to talk to. 

Keith's battle reflexes slowed during one practice so many times that his instructor dismissed him to talk to Kolivan. Keith left with his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. He didn't feel ashamed. He was mostly tired. 

Kolivan glared at him. Keith had never seen Kolivan _glare_ before. 

Keith was expecting the endless lecture about his emotions, but Kolivan just stared at him. Finally, he said, "What do you need?"

Keith sobbed. His tears streamed so fast he surprised himself. Kolivan sat back in shock. Keith took a deep breath. 

"There's nothing," Keith admitted. "There's nothing you can do."

"You're distracted."

"I hadn't really been paying enough attention to notice," Keith smirked. 

Kolivan nodded. "Tell me what happened."

Keith scoffed. "Nothing happened. No one died. No one got injured. We lost no battles. Literally nothing happened, okay?"

"You do not have to talk about it," Kolivan said. "But I would like you to find a way to get back to yourself."

"I'm working on it."

"No," Kolivan insisted. "You're dedicated and hard-working and you love to train, but that's when you're _you._ I want you to take time off."

Keith's immediate response was to think of the team. "I have nowhere to go."

"We'll find you someplace. There's a place we send our injured and traumatized—"

" _Excuse me_?"

"It's not an insult, Keith. There is someone there you can confide in—if that person is not to be me."

Keith looked at the floor, suddenly embarrassed. He hadn't ever thought of Kolivan as someone he could turn to for _this_. Keith realized Kolivan had already decided. 

He groaned. "When do I leave?"

"Now. We've already packed your bags—including your tablet."

Keith blushed. "T—Thanks."

*** * * * ***

This wasn't Keith's first experience with court-mandated therapy. But those therapists were always so critical of him. When he talked about his emotions, they thought he was lying. They took his emotional restraint as indifference and his outbursts as proof of his lies. For a bunch of medical experts, they were hopelessly disinterested in Keith as an individual person. 

This was different. This galra woman was kind, sincere, and patient. When Keith talked, she listened. She took notes and drew connections. By the second week, Keith opened up about everything; the abuse he suffered at the hands of foster parents, foster kids, cops, and teachers. When he described what a group home was, the therapist apologized for him. She told Keith she was sorry he had to go through that. She called it inhumane and unfair. 

He believed her. He told her about some incidents that got him thrown in jail. By this point, she was done listening. She offered him some advice. She was very interested to discover that Keith didn't know he had galra blood, so she focused on his early childhood. She helped him reorder his memories in the context of a galran child. 

Keith learned more about himself in a few sessions with her than he had in his whole life. He was feeling... _lighter_. 

Keith was tapping his foot impatiently. This session, he had said nothing to her. They sat in silence. She pointed at his bouncing leg with her stylus and asked about the behavior. He explained it was a human tick—one often paired with feelings of anxiousness or nervousness. She smirked. Keith chuckled and told her everything. 

He told her all about Lance. He gushed like a schoolboy about all of Lance's quirks and flaws. He explained his hesitant friendship with Lance, followed by his eventual crush; the slow burn of sexual attraction between them. The peaceful feelings they built when they were around each other... 

She said Lance's rejection hadn't broken Keith. Keith had been caving under the pressure for a while. Losing Lance only pushed him over the edge. She encouraged him to put his thoughts elsewhere, but she could see her mind racing. 

"I know he misses me, too," Keith started. "The team says so... and he's been acting weird for a while..."

"Keith, I would really recommend you put this out of your mind."

Keith met her stern gaze. He found it weird, how much he trusted a woman whose name he didn't know (for security reasons). 

"What?"

She frowned. "I don't take your meaning."

"What is it? You're thinking about something..."

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to worry you."

Keith sat up. "Too late. Spill it."

She glanced at her coffee on the table. 

"Not literally."

"I would never diagnose someone without meeting them; and definitely not until I was sure."

Keith started tapping his leg again. "What is it? Is Lance okay?"

"Keith, I want you to stay calm. Tell me every detail you remember; what your friends told you and what you saw."

Keith ran through it again, adding more details as he remembered them. She asked a few questions, but mostly let him talk. 

"Now, remind me," She asked. "Lance is still a child?"

Keith blushed. "Uh—no! No, he's seventeen... so, not a child."

"But you told me your foster father would have been punished under the law severely because you were under eighteen."

"Right, that's just the law, though! I'm eighteen, Lance isn't..." Keith groaned. Lance was _barely_ younger than him. It wasn't a legal issue. "You can still be romantic and... fall in love... and—"

"I'm not attacking you. Tell me, why do humans have that law."

Keith blanked. "Oh—um... How do I explain this?"

"Are relations between individuals Lance's age—and your age in the foster home—with much older parties dangerous?"

Keith understood what she was asking. "Yes, it's torture for kids. It robs them of their... well, everything."

"It is the same with galran children—a universal concept, really."

Keith's mouth felt dry. "Why? Where is this going?"

She looked sad. "The symptoms are different between species. But from what you told me of your own experiences... the fighting, the stress, the self-hate, the confusion, the isolation..." She waited. 

Keith's leg stilled. "What the hell are you saying?" He demanded.

"Did Lance break his game console?"

"I—what?" Keith growled. She wasn't explaining things well for him. He could see her thoughts running rampant. "Yes—after I met him. He made a high score and lost—or something—then he stepped on it."

"But you suspected something was wrong?"

"No, it's—it's just a game console."

"It's a hobby," She pointed out. "And you found his game console broken in his room _before_ you went to meet Lotor."

She was right. That whole day was weird. "Lance's room was trashed; it's always clean—Garrison clean."

She leaned forward. "I have been doing this for thousands of years, Keith. Your Lance sounded like a healthy, blooming young man. Even after you left, your interactions sounded normal for the situation. But Lance is isolated and angry. He's training non-stop. He's not eating. Your team can't form Voltron. He won't talk to you. He said, and I quote 'It's too late.' Something changed, rather abruptly, in Lance's life."

Keith held his breath. "Shiro said he would've been more worried for Lance if he hadn't—if he hadn't—"

Keith sat back. He was an _idiot_. "If he hadn't been getting along so well with _Lotor_ ," He spat.

Keith couldn't believe this. "It can't be—that's not possible. Lotor was charming—"

"He would have to be."

Keith shivered. "Maybe you're wrong." 

"It could be. But Lance is still young; his safety comes first. I _will be_ reporting this to Kolivan. We're going to isolate Lance from Lotor—he may be too afraid to say something with him still in the picture."

Keith swallowed. "Maybe it's not too late?" He pleaded. 

She looked at him with sad eyes. "Keith, he ripped his sheets off the bed."

Keith gagged. He felt like he would hurl. He pictured himself, younger and defenseless, total alone and ashamed of himself; blaming himself. Keith remembered what it felt like, to lose the sense that your body is your own. 

"I want to see him."

"We can arrange that, it might help—or not. It could confuse him further. I want you to go home—I'll be contacting Kolivan immediately."

"Let me help."

"There's nothing you can do."

Keith's tablet pinged. They both froze. Keith dug his tablet out early. But Shiro wasn't using their private channel. He was using the official one; the one they used on missions. Keith had told Shiro that he was going away—he didn't say where. 

"Keith?" Shiro was panicking, "Keith, can you hear me? We need to talk."

"Yes, I can talk now," Keith glanced at the therapist in horror. He turned the volume up so she could hear. "but make it quick."

There was a pause. "Keith, if you're on a mission, it can wait." 

"Oh, can it?" Keith mocked, trying to relieve the tension in his heart. 

"Something's wrong with Lance." 

Keith shared a meaningful glare with the therapist. _"Lotor._ It's the only thing that makes sense." 

"On my..." Shiro sounded like someone had punched him. "How did we not think of that before?"

Keith cursed, he blinked his tears away. "I don't know."

"What are you thinking?" Shiro wondered.

The therapist gestured to the tablet, prompting him to answer. Keith seethed through his teeth, "Lance said he was worried about his fighting skills. He said he was training with someone." 

"You're right," Shiro's voice was unsteady.

"Keep them apart," Keith ordered. The therapist nodded approvingly. "Don't confront Lotor. I'm coming over."

"Keith—"

"I am coming."

Shiro sighed. "Fine."

Keith disconnected his comm.

The therapist gave him an irritated glare, but she said nothing. She grabbed her tablet and put a message through to Kolivan. "It seems Shiro has already mobilized some agents, but I am having Kolivan make preparations to bring Lance here; Voltron be damned."

Keith fell back on the couch. He felt strangely at-ease. They knew what was wrong and they would fix it. On the other hand, Keith couldn't help. 

They waited for hours. The therapist didn't let Keith out of her sight—probably so he wouldn't do something stupid and jeopardize their operation. 

Any moment now Lotor would be in chains and Lance would be here... any moment...

The therapist got a message. She read it with wide eyes. Keith didn't dare ask, not until she finished. Keith's own tablet lit up. A message from Coran. It said: _Lotor has kidnapped Lance._


	11. The Lion Exchange

**Keith**

* * *

The Castle particle barrier hadn’t been lowered for hours. Keith and a team of Marmorans were waiting for entry onto the Castle. They sat drifting in the space between galaxies; the empty space as unnerving as ever. 

Keith tapped his leg anxiously. There had to be a reason Shiro and Allura were not letting them in, but Keith couldn’t think of one. 

He sighed, staring at his recent correspondence with the paladins and the Blade. After failing to apprehend Lotor, Lotor did the most unimaginable thing—he kidnapped Lance. Keith was allowed to leave the rehabilitation site and go to see his friends. Under the advice of his therapist, Keith didn’t tell them the specifics of Lotor’s and Lance’s relationship. It didn’t matter now. 

Perhaps they were discussing that now. But why keep Keith out of it? Keith was sick of people protecting him. 

The particle barrier lowered and the Blade members were allowed on board. Coran told them to get to the altean pods, not the bridge. 

*** * * * ***

The room was practically empty. Allura and Coran stood around a recently used pod. Shiro sat on the floor with a hot drink and a blanket. 

“Shiro?” Keith ran to him. He slid on the ground and sat by him. 

Shiro wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

“Why did no one tell me he was injured?” Keith demanded. 

Allura sighed, but answered patiently. “He wasn’t. Shiro and Lotor fought. When We found him, he was awake. Lotor was already gone with Lance. We were too focused on tracking them that we couldn’t give him the attention he needed.”

Keith frowned. “The attention?” 

“I’m fine, Keith,” Shiro promised. 

“No, what happened? How did Lotor get away?”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped.

“Let’s not make him go through this again,” Coran suggested. 

“You did this without me?”

Allura nodded. “We thought it was best.”

“Best?” Keith growled. 

“Keith,” Coran started. Keith shot him an irritated look. Coran didn’t finish. 

“So tell me what happened,” Keith grit his teeth. “And don’t leave out _any_ of it.”

Coran explained. After discovering Lotor was the cause of Lance’s distress, Shiro went to find Lance and keep him busy. Lance was missing, so Shiro warned Pidge to keep an eye out. Shiro would have waited for the Blades to arrive, but Pidge stopped responding. Lotor attacked her. He knocked her unconscious and locked her in a cupboard. Shiro found Lance and Lotor on the training deck with the lights off. Shiro and Lotor fought. 

Then, the Green Lion flew out of it’s hangar. Allura and Coran were on the bridge. They didn’t know what Pidge was doing, but they didn’t follow her. They went to find Shiro. Lotor must’ve knocked Shiro out—or given him a serious head injury—because Shiro was standing there _alone_ when Coran and Allura found him. Shiro told them about Pidge going silent and they found her. By the time they realized she wasn’t the one piloting the Green Lion, it was too late. 

They set to tracking the Lion immediately. Hunk and Pidge were able to detect evidence of a recent communication between the green lion and the Galra Empire. They tracked the green lion to an empty star system near galra space. The green lion had been drifting for _hours_. They assumed Lance must’ve fought back, because Lotor wasn’t talking to anyone and Lance didn’t attempt to communicate with them. 

The green lion flew away. They chased him from a distance. Lotor dove into a nebula. He was able to navigate faster than them—he knew where he was going. But they figured it out. The center of the nebula was like the eye of a storm. Inside was Zarkon’s ship. They were chased out before they could go in. Not to mention, they were two lions down. 

Keith had tightened his grip around Shiro’s shoulders as they told their story. He found it strange that he was reassuring Shiro—not the other way around. But, still. 

“Shiro,” Keith said kindly. “It’s not your fault. I’m sure you did everything you could.”

Shiro stared at his cup. 

Keith decided to ask him later. “Why keep the particle barrier up?”

“We didn’t want to endanger anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Allura grimaced. “We tried to find evidence of a head injury, but there was none. So we checked the feeds, and they were erased.”

“Lotor erased them?”

“No. They were erased _after_ Lotor escaped with Lance,” Allura glanced nervously at Shiro. 

“Well, it wasn’t—Shiro didn’t—”

“Of course,” Coran interjected. “We know Shiro didn’t.”

“But we still thought we should check the castle for viruses,” Allura continued. “Hunk and Pidge are working on that now. We can’t find the virus Lotor used to wipe the feeds, or why he only wiped his fight with Shiro and not his escape path… but we will. We decided to let you and the Blade on board.”

Keith nodded, no wonder they didn’t even send a message; they were in lock-down. “Well, we have the Red Paladin again—a Red Paladin,” Keith corrected. 

Coran bit his lip. “Keith—”

“No—it’s okay!” Keith didn’t want Coran to say it. “We’ll just go get him.”

The others stayed silent. They didn’t need to argue. Keith knew what they were thinking. Lance was in the galra’s most heavily fortified ship. They couldn’t barge in without a plan. Last time, when Allura was captured, they only escaped because the Blade had been developing a virus for years. They used that virus before it was perfected to save them. It was useless now. 

And they didn’t have years. 

Keith felt his eyes growing wet. “We can just go get him,” He sobbed. “ _Please_?”

Shiro hugged him, breaking out of his shocked state. 

Keith pleaded more. He just couldn’t grasp the idea. How was he supposed to just let his own teammate go? How were they supposed to wait while… Keith shivered. 

“The Green Lion drifted…” Keith mumbled. And no signals were sent. Could Lotor have…?

“Yes,” Allura said again. “Maybe Lance fought back—”

“—though, I don’t see how.” Coran added.

“What?” Keith yelled. 

Allura pursed her lips, glaring at Coran. “As we said, only the footage from the fight was erased. We can see Lotor getting away with Lance and… it doesn’t look good.”

Allura handed him a tablet. He watched the video once, then twice. He sat there in shock. Shiro ripped the tablet out of his hands before he could watch Lotor escape a third time.

“Don’t obsess,” Shiro whispered. 

Keith stared at his hands where the tablet used to be. The image of Lance thrown over Lotor’s shoulder was burned into his mind. It was one thing to know Lance was gone, but to see Lance being carried away was a different thing entirely. And he wasn’t restrained. Keith covered his ears—he could still hear that agonizing scream Lance gave when Lotor boarded the lion—pushing into Lance’s ribs. 

Shiro rubbed Keith’s back. Keith let the sensation fade into the darkness—he didn’t deserve to feel grounded right now. Lance was gone. Keith didn’t slow his breathing as it grew out of control.He pulled on his hair, not light tugs to ease the pressure, but sharp and brutal—and punishing. 

“What’s happening?” Coran panicked. 

Shiro sounded like he was underwater. His voice reached Keith’s ears slowly and held no meaning. “He’s got—he can’t always—Keith?”

Shiro started speaking to him, begging him to come down from it. Coran and Allura chimed in, reflecting Shiro’s nice words. 

“No, don’t overwhelm him, please.” Shiro tried to pull Keith’s hands out of his hair. 

“Is this like when you—when you freeze up?” Allura asked. 

“Sort of, but this is…” Shiro faltered. “It’s a different pain.”

“Lance—” Keith tried to explain. “Lotor is—he told me…”

“It’s okay,” Shiro squeezed his hands on and off. “Whatever Lance told you… You did everything you could. You couldn’t have known.”

“No!” Keith sobbed. “But she did. She knew just from me talking and I should have—I should have recognized the signs—I lived them!”

“Keith… What are you talking about.”

“Lotor is…” Keith stilled. “He’s… Shiro—remember? My foster father? And his brother?” 

Shiro’s jaw line hardened. He cupped Keith’s cheek. _Stay calm_ , he mouthed. “Lotor was on top of him when I entered the room.”

Keith managed to not gag. He numbly fell against Shiro’s shoulders. “I thought—every moment I carry this pain… it felt like I was saving him from it.”

Shiro shushed him, brushing his hair. 

“He was so young, Shiro. He’d never been hurt. He’d never—well, anything. And he was so happy to go slow for me… He didn’t even know why and I thought that was good because I was saving him from this and he didn’t— _I failed._ ”

“You didn’t fail,” Shiro said. “I know you don’t understand that right now, but you didn’t fail.”

Allura and Coran were too stunned to move.

*** * * * ***

Two months was too long to wait. 

Every passing day was agony. Keith spent his time on the bridge of the Castle, praying they would get news. And soon. He knew he was annoying Allura, but she didn’t say anything. He would’ve appreciated how nice she was being if he wasn’t so worried. 

The Blades had no current plans they could use. Their operatives were well out of Lance’s way. They knew he was in the gladiator pits… but the security detail around him had been completely reassigned. In fact, Lotor was looking for more security. Rumor had it he was building a new ship—one with a completely empty deck. A deck they would fill with soldiers and Lance. Kolivan was working as openly as he could to get a Blade member on that detail, but he wasn’t optimistic. 

As things were, they would have the opportunity to infiltrate the Gladiator Pits in two months. Keith was eagerly searching for intel that could move that date up 

Keith grunted. “I’m going to go check on Hunk and Pidge—see if they got a hold of that footage from Lance’s last fight.” 

Allura nodded. There were bags under her eyes. She was exhausted, too. Keith was selfishly throwing his own baggage onto the massive list of responsibilities she had. He was constantly trying to get to Lance _now now now now_ —and she had a mission to plan; kinks to sort out. 

As the doors closed in front of Keith, he said, “I’ll try to bother you less, sorry”

Allura gave him a look of pity. “It’s okay—”

The doors closed. 

*** * * * ***

Keith could hear his heart beating in his ears. This was it. This was the moment. Two months of planning, two months without sleep, two months of crying and screaming, and two months without Lance. That all changed today. Today, they were going to get him back. 

“Just one more thing,” Coran said. “before you all go.” 

They all sat in the paladin’s lounge. The lights were dimmed, as if Coran were setting the mood for an eerie, serious conversation. They were all dressed in their galra uniforms—servants, soldiers, spectators, gamblers… Keith was ready to go and play his part, but Coran had insisted they speak with him first.

“If you guys get a hold of Lance, you will have to prepare for certain truths.”

No one said anything. Everyone shifted awkwardly. 

“Now, It’s been two months. Lance might jump at the opportunity to escape. He probably will—but I can’t send you out there without preparing you for the possibilities.”

Allura fiddled with her Bayard. “Possibilities?”

“Yes. We don’t know how long Lotor and Lance have been… er, _entangled_ with each other,” Coran explained. “I think it’s safe to assume they have been in close quarters since we first freed Lotor from his prison in the Castle.”

Keith scowled. Coran continued, tripping over his own words for quite a while. 

“So, what I’m saying is… from what you all have told me… from what Shiro saw on the deck, what Keith told us about how the human mind reacts to certain, ah, _offences_ , and what Hunk confided in me…”

Keith looked at Hunk. Hunk opened his mouth, nothing came out. He looked away, his face red. 

“There lies the small possibility that you will have to _convince_ Lance to come with us.”

Pidge frowned. “Convince him?”

“Yes,” Coran looked at Keith. “And I find this unlikely, but… you may have to force him.”

Keith nodded. He knew what Coran was talking about. Keith didn’t think he would have fought to stay in that foster home—but he certainly couldn’t process what was happening to him. If his teachers hadn’t reported his behavior to his case agent… Keith would’ve stayed there for the rest of his life. Lance could be the same way. Even if he’s old enough to know what is happening is wrong… 

“I can do that,” Keith declared. “For Lance.” _I can do anything._

Coran relaxed. “I’m sorry you have to do this. And I hope this mission goes better than that, I do.” Coran addressed each one of them. First, Shiro. “I hope Lance isn’t too damaged by the torture of being a gladiator.” Second, Pidge. “I hope you can reconnect with your lion; and be prepared for whatever truths might come from the green lion’s connection with Lotor.” He looked at Hunk. “I hope we can forgive ourselves for letting this happen to him—that it’ll never happen again.” Allura: “I hope he can joke—and is just as annoying as before.” He looked at Keith. He waited a long time before he decided what to say. “I can never pray enough for you. I hope you find him. I hope he goes with you. I hope—there is a lot I hope for, for you. Be strong.”

Allura put her hand on Keith's back. She rose, joining Coran in the middle of the room. They both began to shift, growing taller until they fit their uniforms. 

They waited outside the doors. When they opened, the Blade of Marmora would be on the other side—ready to smuggle them to their positions on Zarkon’s ship. 

Coran, Allura, and Shiro all went with the Blade. Keith, Pidge and Hunk went to the Red Lion. Pidge fitted the lion with a cloaking device so they could sneak up to the. Hunk would operate the cloak and actively fight against scanners to get them through. Pidge would find her lion and start rebonding as soon as possible. Red would be undetectable hidden behind the green lion; they wouldn’t know to look for another one. Hunk and Keith would go to the arena and make contact with Lance. 

It was the most dangerous mission they had ever planned. It was destined to go wrong. There were too many variables out of control. There were too many stupid risks they were taking. But they all agreed: it was time for Lance to come home.

*** * * * ***

The flight was uncomfortable. Team Punk didn’t crack jokes. Keith didn’t have anything to make sarcastic remarks to. They flew in silence. 

The galra Fleet had moved away from the nebula. Now, they’re fleet was discussed in an asteroid belt. The asteroids rippled with solar flares from the four massive suns around it—each about to go supernova. 

It was a miracle. The Blades didn’t know where the base was going to be by the time they were ready. The galra had picked somewhere well hidden, but now their forces were spread thin. It was easier for Hunk to conceal the Lion than he thought. 

Keith navigated the belt with intense focus. Where is mind was lacking, the lion picked up the slack. Red helped him, as eager to get her Paladin back as Keith. 

Keith couldn’t help himself. “Hunk.”

Hunk flinched. “Yes?” He sounded like he knew this was coming.” 

“I would like you to tell me what you knew.” Keith hoped his request sounded polite. 

“Now isn’t the time, Keith,” Hunk said. “None of it matters anymore.” 

“It matters.” By some miracle, Keith’s voice had softened. “It matters to Lance. I need to know _everything_ about him and Lotor. _Everything_.”

Hunk put his hand on Keith’s shoulder—which is usually a _no, no_ when flying through flaming asteroids. 

“Lance told me.” He admitted. 

Silence. Each beat of his heart deadlier and more painful than the last. Keith didn’t push. He wanted to push so badly but he didn’t. He _needed_ to know. 

“He came to me and he admitted… I knew he liked Lotor, happy?”

“I don’t blame you, Hunk.” Keith swerved, returning his focus to the asteroids. 

“He told me when they kissed.”

Keith’s heart stopped. 

“And I remember thinking—Keith, I thought of _you_.” Hunk sobbed. “When Lance told me it was like a slap in the face because I never imagined… he told me about you all the time.”

Keith was crying, too, now. 

“And I knew he was hurting and he wouldn’t talk about it—not after you left. And then out of the blue…”

“I get it,” Keith wheezed. He felt like his chest was collapsing. 

“Was he—” Keith groaned. “Was he _happy_?”

“Absolutely giddy,” Hunk mourned. “But now we know why. Lotor twisted his head around. Lotor—I _hate_ him. I hate him because every detail that Lance told me full of joy is ruined by this… I couldn’t have known… but man,” Hunk laughed. “I really _could_ have if I just—just focused. Asked questions, maybe?”

Keith took his hand off the controls, covering Hunk’s. “Lance is going to need you when we get him out.” 

“You think so?”

“He tells you everything.”

“He didn’t tell me about this.”

“Lotor twisted his mind; got in his head. He isolated Lance. Never again.”

Their entwined hands squeezed—both sick with worry. 

Keith smiled. “Gonna throw up?”

Hunk sounded determined. “Not until this is over, that’s for sure.” Hunk sat down. He reclaimed the device from Pidge. “Thank you, you can go back to finding Green again.”

Pidge threw her hands in the air. “Why am I the only one bothered by this?” She yelled. 

Keith frowned. “Do we sound _okay_ with it?”

“That’s not what I mean…” She groaned. “If Lotor wants lance so badly, why throw Lance in the pits?” 

Keith bit his lip. “Lotor is constructing a new ship, one designed to hold a Paladin of Voltron. We don’t know all the answers and maybe we never will but I sure as hell am not going to dwell when Lance is—” Keith sobbed. “When… Just—Just turn off that big brain of yours and find your Lion.”

Pidge whispered to Hunk, “ _We’re missing something big._ ”

“ _I know_ ,” He said.

Keith wished they wouldn’t do that.

And he wished they were wrong; they weren't. _They were missing something big._ Keith feared it would be the thing to cost them everything.

* * * * *

They entered the arena in full disguises. Hunk’s dark skin was decorated with gold and orange paint—some kind of alien race that invested in the galra’s weapons and mines. He could be fine. Keith was covered head-to-toe in purple paint. The purple was tinted pink, just a little, to make him look like a mix of something that could make him so small. Their comms should be connecting to Shiro, Allura, and Coran’s soon. They should be in range. 

They were emergency support. They’d help the best they could. If they helped, they’d escape on the lions. If they didn’t, they’d go back in a week when Kolivan extracted them. Keith hoped they could keep their covers for a week. Especially after they break Lance out and make security go nuts. 

Hunk and Keith made their way to the front lines. They’d be able to see the action up close—if it came to them. 

They watched several fights. The gladiators rarely came so close to the wall. Keith understood how Kolivan got them seats so close; they sucked. The gladiators knew better than to fight so close to the obstacle. Most of the time, they stayed on the far side. 

But Kolivan had heard reports of Lance’s fights—he ran along the wall and used it to shock the other gladiators. They would see him, for sure. Several matches in and the round was over. 

“Maybe he’s in the second group this time?” Hunk suggested. 

They watched the second group finish their first round. Lance never showed. Several newcomers made their debut… a couple didn’t make it past their first fight. But Lance should’ve been at the end of one of these rounds.

“I don’t understand?” Keith growled. “ _Where’s Lance_?”

“Maybe he moved up in ranks, again,” Hunk prayed. “He could be in the fourth quarter.”

“No, he’s not in the program,” Keith gasped. He’d swiped it from one of the rich gamblers. 

“You can read Galran?”

Keith nodded. “And I’m good at it, too. This is wrong. Kolivan said they’ve been referring to him as the Blue Knight since throwing him here. He’s not in the program!” 

“Are you sure?” Hunk worried. 

“Positive—not a reference to the color blue anywhere. Not even a special guest! He’s not fighting tonight,” Keith panicked. His chest was collapsing, his vision swinging. He punched himself in the gut. _No, I will not lose Lance_. “We need to go to the barracks. The hospital—anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” Hunk asked. “You _have_ to be sure.”

“I’m positive.”

“Then let’s get concessions, I see a lot of spectators leaving now anyway—it’ll be fine.”

They left. The crowd parted for Hunk in an instant. Keith wanted to find the planet of whatever race Hunk as masquerading as and make them wish they’d never aligned with the galra. What could they have done to make them respect Hunk so much? Hunk also seemed uncomfortable by the attention, but managed to pass that discomfort into indifferent. He held his chin eye and the galra averted their eyes. Keith flashed an approving look. 

Keith flanked Hunk, playing the part of a perfect guard while they searched for an exit. Hunk looked around the attractions, apparently bored of them. Soon, some galran entertainers offered Hunk access to a luxury sweet. They didn’t check his ID, ticket, or credentials. Keith followed. Hunk made it clear he was not to go anywhere without his guard. The galran entertainers expressed their eager understanding and led them upstairs. 

Keith found a side door. Hunk was busy, female and male entertainers alike throwing themselves all over him, caressing his thick robes. Keith nodded at him and exited through the door. 

“Can you hear me?” Keith whispered. 

“Of course,” Hunk said. Then he continued to talk, distracting the entertainers. 

From the way things sounded, Hunk had detangled himself from the entertainers and excused himself to get a drink at the bar. 

“Okay, order the exact drink I tell you,” Keith instructed under his breath, searching the empty halls. “It’ll be non alcoholic. Then bring out the gambler’s program I stole; I slipped it into your pocket. Pretend to go over your options. Then excuse yourself before the third quarter ends.”

Hunk started talking to the bartender. He ordered the drink Keith told him to. 

“And, Hunk?” 

Hunk made a disinterested noise.

“If you can’t make it back with Lance and I, the team will extract you. Kolivan has set you up with more protections than anyone else. You’ll leave in a week.”

“I remember that one,” Hunk said, sounding slightly interested. 

“Good,” Keith started to pant. “Our comms won’t stay in connection for much longer.” If they did, the galra would be able to trace them. “I’m almost out of range.”

“If you will all excuse me,” Hunk said, sounding bored again. “I believe there is a fight in the arena with my name on it.”

“Goodbye, Hunk.”

“Goodbye.”

*** * * * ***

Keith could feel his blood in his ears. He and Hunk weren’t supposed to split up. If Keith got Lance, they wouldn’t be able to get Hunk. Hunk would have to wait a week for extraction. They’d planned for it, yes. But they really didn’t want to leave Hunk alone for a week on Zarkon’s ship. 

Not to mention, the comms were unlikely to connect again. If something went wrong with Hunk; no one would know until Kolivan failed to recollect him. For that matter; if Keith failed to get Lance, no one would know for a week. If Shiro was caught being escorted by his new ‘guards,’ Allura and Coran, Keith would have no idea. 

Was he willing to make that sacrifice? His brother for Lance?

Keith shook his head. That’s not what was happening. Everyone would be fine. If Shiro didn’t find Lance at the barracks (where he was being processed as a soldier from another ring), then it was up to Keith. Keith had to focus. 

Keith followed the tunnels the entertainers used to get around. He almost laughed when he realized they could go almost anywhere. These tunnels led Keith by over a hundred private quarters and viewing rooms, a few party rooms, and even the mechanical rooms. 

A servant passed Keith in the hall. Keith pondered knocking him out. But the servant didn’t seem alarmed to see him; so Keith decided not to leave behind a body. That was a huge mistake. 

Not five minutes later, the lights shut off. Keith was left in complete blackness. 

With how barren these halls had been—Keith would have been better off leaving behind a body. Keith touched the wall and started to run. He threw his ragged cape over his shoulder and let the lights on his armor lead the way. He drew his sword.

He opened the nearest door and burst into a full viewing room. A whole party of galra stared at him. 

“Who ordered the soldier?” Someone asked. 

Keith froze. He took his cape off, standing in full armor. A hand reached for him and he grabbed the galran’s wrist. He yanked them off the couch and threw them across the room. The guards descended. Keith wrapped his cape around one and blinded him. He dragged him to the floor, using him as a shield. He impaled the last guard. He gripped the cape as hard as he could and yanked up. He heard the guards neck snap.

A civilian galran leveled a gun at him. Keith glared and he put it down. Keith left, running down halls with the alarms blaring. Keith prayed Shiro was the one to find Lance. If Lance wasn’t fighting tonight, he could be at the barracks. 

Keith stopped. 

_Or the hospital,_ Keith thought. 

He ran like the devil. He knew where they were; first floor near the pits, just by the morgue. Keith could make it. He could get Lance out of here. He’d call the Red lion to set the whole place on fire if he had to. 

The alarms were limited to each section Keith was last spotted in. Apparently, some rogue attendee wasn’t worth stopping the fights. Keith left the alarmed section in a pack of scared galrans. 

Then he remembered he was wearing full armor with his sword drawn—and there was a security post up ahead. Everyone else was wearing high fashion. He put his hand on a high-ranking officer’s back, pretending to be rushing him out. The guards monitoring the section cleared the crowds and let him through first. 

The officer aimed to his right, Keith relaxed his grip and followed. The guard yelled something in the old Galran language, something like ‘fall behind.’ Keith silently thanked Kolivan for the language classes and he dropped behind the officer. 

So far so good.

Actually, so far Keith had messed everything up, but other than _that_ , he was doing okay. 

Keith ditched the officer. He ran left. He had no idea where he was going. He found a stairwell and booked it to the first floor. He looked around, panicked. There were no signs down here. The silence was eerie. He could hear the rumblings of the crowd above. The lights were flickering; like the world's most powerful empire could be bothered to spend money on their precious entertainment. 

A galran servant passed Keith, a dead body on a gurney. The servant avoided eye contact. Keith followed at a distance. The servant entered the morgue. When Keith glanced inside, he almost threw up. Each body had been stripped of their fingernails, teeth, horns, eyeballs… Their parts were being sold on jewelry. 

Keith snapped his head away. 

_The hospital is by the morgue_ , He reminded himself. 

Keith felt like he was going to cry. He was so scared. He had no resources. He had to get Lance, and injured Lance, up to the Red Lion. So far everything had gone wrong.

Keith realized, if he didn’t find Lance himself he was going to die. Could he trust that Shiro, Coran, and Allura would? Would Keith jeopardize their mission? 

Keith found the hospital. He pressed his exposed hand to the keypad. It hissed open. Rows of beds lined each wall. Several beds were covered in blood. Some were empty; but most were occupied. Keith scanned the bodies. 

“ _No,_ ” Keith sobbed. 

Lance wasn't there. 

Keith slashed his sword against a wall. “No!”

The doctors and fighters stayed away. None of them were equipped to fight him. 

He took deep breaths. It was going to be okay. It was good that Lance wasn’t injured. Now Shiro, Allura, and Coran would escape with Lance tonight. Pidge would fly away with Green. Keith would pilot Red. Hunk would be extracted safely in a week. 

It was going to be fine; as long as Keith got back to the Red Lion in time. 

As he turned to leave, someone at the back called out to Keith, “You’re here for him!”

Keith spun around, his heart thumping. 

Without thinking, he charged her. “The Blue Knight?”

“Lance,” She confirmed. 

Keith’s brain might as well have melted out of his ears he was so relieved. 

But something was wrong. He looked at her—arms and legs strapped down. Her face was horrified. “Lotor took him last week.”

Keith balked. “Took him? _What do you mean_ took him?” 

“As his prize. Prince Lotor _himself_ came and took Lance last week after his match. They fought.”

“Is he okay?” Keith asked. 

“I’ve been here ever since.”

 _Deep breaths_ , Keith thought. “He’s not fighting tonight. He’s at the barrack, right? _Right_?”

The man next to her spoke, barely above a whisper. “He never came back.”

A thunder of footsteps rang in the hallway. They were here for Keith. 

“You should run,” She advised. 

Keith glared at her. “He’d be resting? If Lotor took him for himself he’d be resting?”

She shook her head. “If he were that injured, he’d be here.”

“You’re too late,” The man said. 

Keith crumpled. He didn’t even feel the guards restraining him, not anymore.

They dragged him into the hallway. They took his sword—not the one his mom gave him, thank god. Keith shook his head. How could he let himself be disarmed? Keith was not going to go quietly. Lance needed him—Pidge needed him. She wasn’t supposed to leave without him! Otherwise, they’d know the Red Lion was hiding, cloaked, in the hangar with her.

They shoved something into Keith’s neck. He felt cold. 

Keith reached down with his teeth, pulling his necklace out of his armor. He broke the casing with his teeth—an emergency communication device to everyone. He dropped it. 

Before the guards could take it he yelled, “PIDGE, GO!” He grunted as they tried to take the necklace without losing their grip on his thrashing arms. Keith didn’t know what else to do, so he yelled. “I’ve got him! Trust me! Red is coming for us! JUST GO NOW!”

The guard shattered the emergency communication device under his boot. He injected his neck again. This time, it was so cold it burned. 

Keith slumped against them, falling to the floor. 

Maybe the team would make it out. But one thing was clear; _they were too late._


	12. The Darkness

**Keith**

* * *

Keith woke slowly. His hands were above his head, strapped to corners of a metal slab. Cold metal several inches thick wrapped around his wrists. Keith wouldn’t be able to shake himself free. He was still wearing the under suit of his armor. There were small splashes of blood on his clothes, but he didn’t know where from.

He tried and failed to move his legs. His ankles were strapped down with matching restraints. Keith grunted, lifting his head to look at his feet. A leather strap on his forehead stopped him. All he could do was stare at the dark ceiling. Keith groaned. 

_They got him._

He struggled against his restraints, and focused on the pressure against his skin. Keith counted each breath he took. He kept himself grounded, even though his head was spinning. 

Keith prayed that Lance had been in the barracks. If he was, Shiro would have gotten him to Allura and Coran. Pidge would have flown away after his dire warning. Hunk will be extracted that week. Kolivan would know Keith was missing by now, but no one else would. 

Keith was confident that Kolivan would use all his resources on Hunk—not Keith. It brought Keith a sense of peace. 

Keith relaxed into the metal slab. It took a while for his mind to orient himself. He realized the slab wasn’t lying flat, it had him propped up at an angle. As Keith’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he watched shadows move behind the door. Whatever it was never came to see him. 

Keith waited anxiously for his interrogation. He waited for a rescue. No one came for him. Nothing happened. 

Keith was in solitude.

*** * * * ***

Keith lost track of time. He’d heard about the crippling effects of isolation. He’d heard that two days in isolation could feel like a week. He was starting to understand why.

Keith spent his earlier days waiting for something to happen. He expected an interrogation. After all, he was the former leader of Voltron and current operative for the Blade of Marmora. Why _didn’t_ they have questions for him? 

Keith had a thousand questions and no answers. He performed mental exercises to keep his head on straight. He’d spend time counting his breathing. He counted for ten minutes in English, ten more in Galran, then he repeated the cycle. Every thirty minutes or so, Keith would realize he wasn’t counting anymore. 

He was starting to get a headache, so he went to sleep. Keith found it harder and harder to sleep as the days went on. He’d wake up at random times, not knowing when he’d fallen asleep or for how long. Most of the time he was so bored he wanted to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. 

Keith’s shoulders hurt. His waist hurt. His wrists ached and he couldn’t move his fingers anymore. 

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, someone placed a physical barrier on the other side of the door, blocking the light from slipping through. 

He hadn’t realized how well his eyes adjusted to the dark. Laying there without any light at all… it started to tear at his mind. 

*** * * * ***

He spent every day thinking about escape. There were no loose nails or screws. His galra blood was useless. He couldn't remove the shackles on his wrist. He couldn't open the door.

His clothes smelled so bad from never bathing. He hadn’t gotten used to the smell yet. His whole body was covered in warm sweat. He couldn’t wipe the moisture off his brow. Sweat would build on his hairline before travelling slowly down his face; sometimes into his ear. Besides the weird nourishment they had him on (that made him never have to use the bathroom; gross), Keith slept and that was it.

He figured any day—any second—his team would save him. They saved Allura when she was captured. They had come up with this plan to save Lance. Hunk could still be undercover, waiting to come rescue Keith. 

Keith grunted. By now, Hunk will have been safely removed from his position on Zarkon’s ship. When they came up with this plan they were in a hurry. They knew going in that they would not be able to make any changes—they wouldn’t even be able to talk to each other. Allura and Coran could’ve been caught and no one would know. Shiro could get stuck in the gladiator pits again. Pidge might get trapped with the Green Lion. 

_Everything_ went wrong for Keith. Why would it be any better for his friends? It was useless to dwell on now, but it was all Keith had to do. 

* * * * *

Keith had to admit he was pretty thick. It wasn’t until he’d nearly lost his mind that he remembered he could summon Red from a distance. He started meditating to find her. Red was good at breaking things, she would bust through and save him. They’d used their connection to search for Lance. 

Keith still stood a chance. 

He closed his eyes and reached out.

*** * * * ***

“ _Come on_ ,” Keith complained. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Red hadn’t responded to Keith once. He was trying everything he could. He festered angry thoughts of revenge. He trashed talked Lotor. He promised to stop making fun of Lance in front of the others. He remembered their greatest fights. He laughed over how stubborn Red and Keith were before bonding. 

The Red Lion just didn’t listen to him the way she used to. But Keith _knew_ Red could hear him. He felt Red nearby. 

“Just give me a chance, Red.” Keith’s voice was dry and cracked. “We both want to save Lance.”

Keith blinked. Maybe that’s what this was about. 

“Wait? Is Lance trying to call you too? Forget about me! Find him,” Keith pleaded. “I’ll stop, okay?”

Keith didn’t feel anything. No sense of acknowledgement.

“Red?” Keith tried. 

Keith sighed. 

“Look, I know I’m in no condition to fight.” Keith pulled against his restraints. “My back is covered in bruises. I can’t feel my hands. I can’t even move my head. But we have to save Lance. I can do it, I know I can. You just have to give me the chance.”

Keith felt Red connect with him. He didn’t feel any warmth or familiarity or rage… just the fact that his lion was _there_. 

“Good,” Keith felt a tear race down his cheek. He relaxed into the metal. “You’re listening.”

Red didn’t respond. 

“What do you want to hear?” Keith asked. “If we put our heads together, we can save Lance.”

Red felt… doubtful. 

“No, no,” Keith promised. “Don’t give up hope. We can do this.”

Red rejected him. 

“What is going on with you?” Keith growled. “How can you not be giving up everything to save him?”

Red stayed silent, but didn’t withdraw from his mind. 

“Is that why I found you?” Keith hissed. “Your paladin was abducted by a monster and you just sat there in your _bubble_ waiting for the next one, am I right?” 

Red growled—but it was more than he’d gotten from his old lion in a while. 

“What happened to the lion that flew in here with me? Desperate to save Lance? What happened?”

Red explained. The lions didn’t use words as much as thoughts and emotions. Keith was familiar enough with Red to understand what she was saying: _Lance doesn’t need to be saved._

Keith froze. “He’s out?”

It seemed impossible. Keith laughed, tears filling his eyes. “He made it?” 

_No._ The red lion purred. 

Keith felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. “What… what is wrong with you?” 

The red lion closed him out. 

*** * * * ***

Keith was angry at Red. Their conversation was confusing. Keith assumed he was out of practice. He’d been here for a while. 

If Lance didn’t escape and doesn’t need saving, then he must be talking to Red. 

“So why not just tell me…?” Keith asked himself. 

Keith would do anything to protect Lance—to protect Red, too. He didn’t want Zarkon hurting his lion. Maybe it was selfish, expecting the lion to come the moment he called. The red lion was more important than Keith—and Lance. Keith knew that. But Keith just didn’t want Lotor to hurt Lance. He’d give anything to save him from that. 

Red responded so fast, it was like being thrown out an airlock. It was stronger and more intense than anything he’d ever felt. Normally, communicating with the Red Lion was an equal exchange of strength and emotions. Red only returned what you were willing to give. There were some moments where Red let Keith take control—back when he was too stubborn and inexperienced. Red was standoffish like that. Like, _oh? You think you can do better? Fine, do it without me._ Red never took control.

Not until now. 

Either Keith's mind was weak from captivity, or Red had something _important_ to say. 

The tension in Keith’s body vanished. He was standing. Keith looked at his hands. His wrists weren’t sore. It was like a memory of standing. He was wearing his red jacket. The lights of the lion didn’t hurt to look at. 

Keith stared at the empty pilot’s seat. He wanted to fly away. Who knows, maybe Keith could pilot Red from a distance. He’d never tried it before. But Keith knew that wasn’t what the lion brought him here for. Besides, Red was completely in control; Keith was just a passenger. If anything, Red was controlling _him_ now. 

It felt strange. Red was feeding Keith her emotions; persistence, regret, confusion… Red was apologizing to Keith. 

“Why?” Keith asked.

The scene of the cockpit changed. The white lights filtered out. Warning lights flashed on every screen. Lance was flying. His brow was creased with concern. He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. _Lotor_.

Keith clenched his fists. Lotor was in the Red Lion with Lance. He was dressed in his full armor, a weapon at his side. He stood behind Lance, watching the scene unfold with intrigue. Keith wanted to rip him apart, limb from limb. 

_Wait,_ Red insisted. 

Lance took a hit. Lotor fell against the pilot’s chair, barely stopping himself from crashing into Lance. Lance mumbled an apology. He turned his focus back on the battle. Lance was only half as focused as he usually was. He kept looking over his shoulder. 

He was more focused on Lotor than the battle. 

“When was this?” Keith asked. 

_Watch_.

Keith obeyed. Slowly, Lance’s focus returned. His competitive streak returned. Lance raced against the army, sweeping through with deadly force. He glanced at Lotor and smirked. Lotor leaned away, looking impressed. 

“Lance?” Shiro asked. “What are you— _oh, no_ …”

Lance flew into the enemy ship. Red braced her paws on the floor and her back glowed. The super-powered gun generated out of thin air, firing on the ship. Lance flew _through_ it. He ripped the ship apart and came out the other side. He watched as the ship fell into the dead planet’s gravity. 

Lotor laughed. “Nice trick.”

Lance licked his lips. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Shiro? Can we go home now? I’m thinking milkshakes.”

Shiro sighed. “Regroup at the castle. The threat is over, courtesy of a reckless Paladin.”

“Better than hot-headed,” Pidge laughed. “Am I right, Lance?”

Lance gripped the controls. 

Pidge frowned, looking concerned. “Lance?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lance forced enthusiasm. “Right! See you back at the castle.” 

Lance turned off her screen. He flew back in silence. He looked troubled. 

Lotor took off his helmet. Lance starred as he shook out his hair. 

“I never thought of you as reckless,” Lotor said. 

“Oh, that? I think the word he was looking for was _calculated_.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Lotor nodded. “Obviously.”

Lance sat in his chair, looking at Lotor. Finally, it occurred to him to stand up and move. Lance bolted out of his chair and stretched, pointing at the back door. “Shall we?”

Lotor’s nod was slight. 

Lance opened the door, but before he could leave Lotor grabbed his hand. Lotor knocked on Lance’s helmet with the back of his knuckles. Lance blushed. He took his helmet off and tucked it under his arm. He grabbed the back of his neck, looking straight at Lotor’s chest. 

Lance snapped out of it, returning his gaze to Lotor’s face. “You’re taller than I’m used to.” 

Lotor frowned. “I thought that you had a galran on your team? The old black paladin?”

Lance snickered. “What, Keith? He’s shorter than I am.”

Lotor wasn’t listening. He touched Lance’s chin with his thumb. Lance swallowed, his ears turning red. 

“I’m never going to get used to that.”

Lotor leaned in, planting a delicate kiss on Lance’s lips. “Used to what?” He hummed. 

Lance gushed. He leaned against the doorway of the Red Lion’s cockpit. Lotor followed. Lotor braced his arm over the doorway and bent down. He grabbed the bottom of Lance’s chest piece. 

“Take this off,” He ordered against Lance’s lips. 

Lance nodded. He undid the straps on his arms and wrists. He let the small pieces fall to the floor. He pulled the chest plate over his head, setting it and his helmet on the floor. 

Lotor kissed Lance again—deeper, this time. Keith would have been disgusted if he weren’t so _shocked_. He’d been picturing Lance as some weak victim—someone with no hope or control. But that wasn’t the case. Not completely. Lance was strong. 

Lotor leaned in and Lance rose on his toes. Lance tapped on Lotor’s chest plate. 

“What?” Lance murmured. “I’m the only one?”

“I doubt you’ll be complaining for much longer.”

Lotor leaned in, kissing Lance’s cheek and ear. His hand snaked around Lance’s back and rubbed patterns on his waist. Lance jumped under Lotor’s touch. They both laughed. 

Lotor leaned down. He grabbed onto Lance’s thighs and picked him up like he weighed nothing. He pinned Lance between him and the wall, their heads level. Lance locked his ankles around Lotor, holding himself up so Lotor could let his hands wander. 

Keith realized why he was watching this. Red was explaining something to him. 

“This is wrong,” Keith said. “Lotor has been hurting Lance. We know he has.”

Red disagreed. 

“What you’re seeing now is fake!” Keith yelled. “Are you telling me that the Lance you last saw is _okay_? The Lance who can’t form Voltron anymore?”

Red pushed into his mind, desperate for Keith to understand. 

“WHAT?” Keith bellowed. 

Red changed the scene. Suddenly, Lance was piloting again. This time, Keith was behind him. This was the last time Keith saw him. Keith watched as Lance laughed, but his mind was somewhere else. 

Lance started to sly recklessly again. 

“That’s what Lotor did to him.” Keith pointed. 

Red was getting frustrated, so Keith watched in silence. This time, he was something he didn’t the last time. Lance’s words: _You’re too late._

Keith stared at Lance, sobbing as he flew them out of the desert. Keith has been too hurt and surprised to notice back then. 

“He blames me.” 

Red took the image away. Suddenly, Keith was standing in a field of stars. 

Keith couldn’t believe it. “He hates me. He wanted me to save him. I left him in Lotor’s hands—he blames me!”

Red purred, trying to calm him down. 

That meant Lance wasn’t coming to rescue Keith… And Lance wouldn’t go with Keith even if he and Red broke out. Keith buried his face in his hands. 

When he opened his eyes, he was back in his dark cell. 

*** * * * ***

The day the door opened, Keith thought he was going to die. He hadn’t seen anyone in so long. The only reason he survived was because of the red lion. 

It was tedious, reliving old battles and memories, but it kept his mind alive. Keith asked to see other things, too. It took about a month, but the red lion gave in. Red showed him as many of Lance’s battles as Keith could bare. It was agonizing. 

Lance always acted so confident and above-it-all. Seeing him when no one else could told a different story. Obviously, Keith assumed that Lance was more caring in his heart than he let on, but he didn’t imagine his aloofness was a cover. 

Whenever Lance got especially scared, he covered it with jokes. Whenever he was doubting himself, he bragged about being the best. Everything with Lance had an equal or opposite reaction. It was entrancing to watch. 

Red sacrificed these private moments from Lance’s past to save Keith. At first, Keith felt Red’s hesitation to show Keith any of it—it belonged to Lance, after all. But Keith was drowning in isolation. His body was broken down to nothing. He hadn’t even _walked_ in months. He hadn’t seen light. He was completely alone. Keith hadn’t felt this isolated since he was a kid. 

Keith was never locked away, not like this. Living in constant fear of the people who commanded his life felt the same, though. When Keith was a kid, there was no escape. He had no options. There was nowhere he could go and nothing he could do. Back when Red and Keith flew together, Red sensed the remnants of that trauma in him. Red always calmed him and supported him, no matter how bad it got. Red never pushed to see, until now. 

It’s not like they had anything else to do. 

Now, with the door to the cell open, Keith became painfully aware of how long it had really been. 

Keith’s mind reeled against the sound of the door opening. It was unbearable—like an ice pick being driven through his skull. The light was excruciating. Keith couldn’t open his eyes. His whole body shuddered. 

When the druid touched him, Keith thought he would vomit. His stomach was empty but he hadn’t eaten in months. Everything about his body just felt wrong. The druid pulled him off the slab. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t.

They dragged him off and his muscles screamed. His fingers sparked with lightning as the blood returned to his hand. His shoulders snapped as the druid lowered his arms. Keith’s neck hadn’t held his head up for so long, his head slumped forward. His chin smacked his chest and sent painful vibrations through his teeth. 

_How are we alive?_ Keith’s mind screamed. 

They dragged him into another room. Keith’s vision blacked out like he’d stood up too fast—but it was a thousand times worse. 

The druids propped him up higher. Keith’s entire body spasmed. He was trying to hold himself up like he had on the Red Lion—but that was a vision. The Red Lion stored him in an infinite void of memory and thought. Keith existed as he remembered. 

Keith felt his mind slipping away. He didn’t fight it. It was a relief from the agony. 

*** * * * ***

The Red Lion usually informed Keith of whenever he’d been moved. They relocated the base frequently—Zarkon’s base never stayed in the same place. Sometimes Keith could feel the changes in gravity. Sometimes they flew through storms so strong he felt electricity in his cell. It was a big deal when the Red Lion and Keith were moved off Zarkon’s ship. They thought they’d be going to Lotor. Last Keith heard, Lotor was constructing a new ship with maximum security. Instead, they were taken to a planet. A couple weeks later, they were on a ship. Then a boat. 

He wondered where they took him this time. He could feel the familiar hum of an engine through the floor. 

Keith blinked. His feet were touching the floor. He held out his hands. He could move them. It was exactly like being in the Red Lion’s void. Suddenly, he was _back_. He was slower and less sure of himself—and his body wasn’t responding completely right—but he was okay. 

_Red?_ Keith thought.

There was no answer. Keith could still feel the lion nearby, but the Red had gone silent. 

The door to Keith’s right opened. He found three soldiers all in black gear—unlike any galra uniform he’d ever seen. They didn’t have guns or rifles. Each had a specialized weapon; some had two. A servant walked in. Keith watched them in shock. 

That was a _person_ . A person _moving_. 

Keith sobbed. He was in the world. They weren’t holding him in the dark anymore. Keith swallowed. He could withstand any torture. He could endure any amount of pain. He could fight in the gladiator pits for the rest of his life. So long as he never had to go back to that _place_ ever again. 

The servant set down… _something_. The servant vanished. Keith shook his head. What just happened? He looked at the door. He was losing track of everything. He tried to look at the weapons of the guards again. One was… an ax. What clan was that from? Keith whimpered. His mind was nearly as sharp as he’d hoped. His consciousness had lots of practice, but using his physical brain was an exercise he wasn’t prepared for. 

The guard leveled their ax. Keith stared at the sharp end of the blade. That meant… danger. 

Keith looked away. 

The servant had left behind a pile of cloth. Keith picked it up. He wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t know what clothes were. But putting them on was another matter. 

Keith would have to take off his under suit. He looked down. He was barefoot. And naked. 

Keith put on the clothes. 

The clothes were nice. Not _I’ve-been-imprisoned-for-months-and-and-forgot-what-clothes-are_ nice, but actually nice. The threads were woven tightly together and felt so soft to the touch. The fabric held his body snugly; not as tight as an under suit, but not loose. 

He was still barefoot. 

The guards led him down the hall. Keith followed slowly. His feet weren’t going where he told them to. He looked at the floor. He pointed his toes as he swung his foot out, aiming for where he wanted his foot to land. It helped. 

Keith stood in front of an open door. 

The guards parted and gestured for him to keep going. They all drew their weapons. 

_Yeah_ , Keith tried to say. _Cause I’m going to fight you like this._

Keith frowned. _How do people talk, again?_

He walked through the door. He stood in a small room, like an airlock. They closed the door behind him. The lights stayed on, but Keith was back in silence. He was starting to get used to noise again—the sounds of machines whirling and people walking. 

If this was an airlock, then they were going to kill him. Still, Keith felt calm. 

_Maybe the Red Lion escaped and they’re executing me for it,_ He thought. _That gives Red fifteen seconds to find me in the vacuum of space before my lungs expand and my veins explode._

Keith imagined what it would be like if Red didn’t catch him and he went blind. Would it be as bad as being in that room?

Keith turned, looking at the other door. This wasn’t an airlock. They didn’t fix his muscles and bones just to kill him. They didn’t dress him up so they could kill him. 

Months ago, Keith would have freaked out. But now he had a new perspective on things. They spend months moving him from place to place just to get him here. Now, they had taken him out of isolation. 

_Am I broken enough for them?_ Keith wondered. _Without Red, would I be?_

Whatever they wanted from him, Keith was stronger than they thought. He’d go back to that room for a year _without_ Red if he had to. He wiped the tears from his face. He’d made up his mind. If they offer, he’s going back to that room. He might as well accept it now; it’ll hurt less later. 

The lights turned off. Keith had a terrifying moment of being in pure darkness before his eyes adjusted. There were still little lights in the corner of this room. He could still see. 

The door opened. Keith didn’t hesitate. He walked into the dark room. The door closed. 

Keith walked around the corner of the room, practicing his steps. His reconstructed muscles started to ache. He decided to stop in the corner. What do people normally do when their muscles hurt? Stretch. Keith tried and failed instantly. As much as he wanted to be the disciplined Blade-member he used to be, he decided to quit. He leaned against the wall, promising himself he wouldn’t sit. 

When the door opened again, Keith came back to himself. 

A large shadow covered the door, making it impossible to see who it was. The lights from the hallway were harsh, but Keith managed to make out a smaller figure in front of the larger shape. It was the crying that gave him away. 

“ _Lance_ …?” Keith's voice was unintelligible. 

The figure holding Lance was covered in heavy armor. Tubes of glowing quintessence protruded from the back of the beast’s wild shoulders. The being looked older and more withered than Keith remembered, but he’d recognize that form any day. 

“Zarkon,” Keith wheezed. 

Zarkon’s massive hand was clasped over Lance’s mouth. Lance was blind folded. Tears soaked through the blindfold. Lance shivered in Zarkon’s arms. Zarkon had Lance restrained in his grasp, his other arm wrapping all the way around the small human. 

“Let him go,” Keith demanded. 

Zarkon stepped inside, jerking Lance where he wanted him to go. Keith could see his hands were bound now. 

“I said,” Keith’s voice came out stronger. “ _Let him go._ ”

Lance jerked, like he finally recognized Keith's voice. It made his heart ache. Zarkon grabbed him by the hair and shoved him to the floor. Lance twisted, like he anticipated the move, and landed safely on his back. 

Zarkon turned to leave. Keith almost dove for Lance, _almost_. That’s when he was the man in the hallway. His white hair was ratty and tangled. He had bags under his eyes. He was wearing some galran robe twisted incorrectly out of his body. 

Keith and Lotor glared at each other. The exact same hatred Keith felt for Lotor, he saw reflected in Lotor’s eyes. 

_Oh,_ Keith realized. 

Zarkon stepped between them, closing the door. Keith was and Lance were alone—but they were being watched. 

Keith still ran to his side. He rolled Lance over. Lance flinched the moment Keith touched him. Keith removed Lance’s blindfold. Lance blinked, flinching from the soft light—not unlike Keith just hours ago. Keith held Lance delicately. He resisted the urge to run his thumb along Lance’s face. Last time Keith had seen him, Lance had continuously snapped _don’t touch me_. Lance finally held his eyes open. He looked at Keith as if he were seeing straight through him. 

“I—” Keith swallowed. “Do you remember me?”

Lance’s lip quivered. His eyes started to dark around the room. He shifted in Keith arms—as if to move away—but froze instantly. His whole body went rigid. 

Keith propped Lance against the wall, withdrawing to give his old friend some space. 

“I’m going to untie your hand now,” Keith announced. 

Thankfully, Keith’s galra blood worked on Lance’s shackles. They snapped open and hit the floor with a thud. Lance jerked away and covered his ears. 

“Sorry!” Keith yelled. 

Lance started to shake his head. He scooted away from Keith, sliding down the wall until trapping himself in a corner. Keith followed.

Lance raised his arm—holding his hand out in a _stop_ gesture. Keith inched away, but stayed close. 

“You’re okay,” Keith whispered. “I’m not coming any closer.”

Lance nodded in understanding but his hand stayed up. His eyes watered. Lance hid his face in the crook of his elbow. He drew his knees to his chest and huddled in the corner like a frightened animal.

“Can you talk to me?” Keith asked. “Would you like to just sit here—in silence?”

Lance sobbed. “I don’t want to be here.”

Keith wondered if he was talking about Lotor’s ship or the cell with Keith. 

“Me neither.”

Lance started to steady. His breathing became more controlled, but his mind was fighting a war. Keith could see Lance going through cycles of fear, despair, and anger. Lance had never been so easy to _read_ before. Sometimes he would drop his guard and look sad, but he was never this transparent. 

“Do you understand what’s happening?” 

Lance didn’t answer. He slowly lowered his hand. 

“When did they…” Lance took a deep breath. “How long have you been here?”

“We came to get you in the gladiator pits… I’m sorry—we were too late,” Keith explained. 

“The gladiator… No.” Lance hugged himself. “Not possible.”

“We did. We came for you as soon as we could, _I swear_.”

“But that was—” Lance started to whisper, like he couldn’t believe it. “That was so long ago.”

“Months, I think.”

Lance shook his head. “No. I _remember_ that. Lotor was _pissed_. You couldn’t have been here this whole time.”

“I’ve been on Zarkon’s ship,” Keith said. “They only brought me to… wherever we are today. I’ve been travelling for weeks.”

“No, no, no,” Lance said, over and over. He retreated into the corner, his hand covering his ears and his head shaking. His voice got louder, “no, no, no, no!”

“I’m sorry,” Keith mourned. “I failed. I could have gotten you out then—”

“No!” Lance yelled. “That’s not what—I mean, that isn’t why I’m…”

Keith stared at Lance. He didn’t understand what he was trying to say. 

“I thought that,” Lance covered his face with his hands. Keith could barely hear him. “Every second that I’ve been here, you all have been safe. It was only me that he wanted—you were supposed to be _home_!”

Keith met Lance’s pleading gaze. Lance had been held prisoner for longer than Keith. He was completely alone. All this time, Lance thought he was protecting them in some way. Keith knew, if the roles were switched, he’d be thinking the same thing. Now Lance was discovering that it wasn’t true; Keith was hurt right alongside him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Keith apologized. “I am so, so sorry, Lance.” 

Lance kept staring at him, pleading with Keith to take it back—to lie and say he was okay all this time. Keith was tempted to do it. Lance looked so vulnerable: curled in the corner, pupils blown wide, limbs trembling with fear. But Keith couldn’t lie to him. 

Keith leaned forward, trying to see Lance’s eyes. Lance looked away, his eyes twitching and confused. 

“Lance, I think you have a concussion.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you need a doctor—”

“I just got out of the hospital!” Lance protested. “I said I’m _fine_.”

Keith blinked. “Why were you in the hospital?”

Lance scoffed. He let his head rest on the metal wall, gazing absentmindedly at the floor. 

Keith studied him. He looked stronger than he used to. His muscles were well defined—well _practiced_ . Lotor could have continued training him. Or Lance was still fighting in the ring. As Keith looked longer, he realized how _thin_ Lance looked, like he hadn’t eaten a loving meal in months. 

“Did Lotor put you in the hospital?” Keith asked, his voice low.

Lance dropped his arms. His head moved slowly, like he was so furious he couldn’t move. He glared at Keith, his eyes watering from rage. Keith had never seen him like this before. 

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” he seethed. 

Keith backed away. He held his hands up in a surrender. Should he apologize? Ask what was wrong? Keith thought it was safest to say nothing. 

“You do not get to just—just come back and start—” Lance stopped, drawing in a slow breath. He looked back up, his black eyes challenging. “I have to survive, Keith.”

Keith sat frozen. What did that mean? 

“I know,” he said weakly. 

“No,” Lance snapped. “You really _don’t_.” 

“Right, I’m sorry,” Keith’s apology sounded empty, even to his own ears. 

“You do not get to _judge me_ ,” Lance growled, almost whispering. 

“I’m not—no one is judging you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.”

“You have been judging me this whole time,” Lance started to explain. “Every second of every day; it’s always you—you and the team. You have the luxury of getting to judge and look down on me but I don’t. I have to survive here, Keith. And I don’t care how!”

Keith held his hands up trying to get Lance to calm down. “None of us would _ever—_ ”

“I have done what I had to! I _do_ what I have to. I don’t get to choose, Keith. Everything is chosen for me!”

“I’m so sorry!” Keith broke down. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m...” 

Keith sobbed, staring at his hands. He felt like he was to blame, here. He just didn’t know why. When he looked up, Lance had gone silent. Lance looked startled. He kept his eyes on Keith. He shook his head softly. 

Lance fell back into the corner. He didn’t look as weak as before, just tired. His eyes were still, fixed on something in space that Keith couldn’t see. 

Keith waited a while. Once he thought it was safe, he asked: “Why did Zarkon bring you here?”

Lance shrugged. “When he and Lotor fight, it’s never in English.”

Keith nodded. If only he had been there. Maybe he could’ve picked up on the finer points. 

“It was about me, though.”

Keith tilted his head to the side. 

Lance answered before he asked. “It’s always about me.” 

“God,” Keith asked. “What’s that like?”

Lance’s eyes bulged, like he was reliving it. “ _Stressful_.” 

Keith pouted. At least he never had to talk to anyone. 

“Are you in danger?” Keith whispered. “Why bring you here—do they do this a lot?”

Lance paled. His skin looked clammy. 

“Sorry, different subject,” Keith tried. 

“No,” Lance sighed, barely above a whisper. “He does. When he's mad. When I… when I mess up. Sometimes for days at a time. No sound, no light, no… you can’t imagine, Keith.” Lance shivered. 

Keith frowned. “I can’t,” he lied; this wasn’t about him. 

“I think I’m going to die,” Lance admitted. “I’ve always pushed and pushed… I don’t know why. It makes me feel better for… it makes me feel less guilty.”

 _Guilty_ ? Keith wondered. _That can’t be good._

“But I don’t even try anymore,” Lance said. “I just lose control. I keep having these freak-outs where I don’t know how to stop myself. And I don’t want to have them—and I don’t want to fight him.”

Keith scooted closer. He sat against the wall, leaning against it. He made sure Lance could see him. Lance looked up, holding eye-contact with Keith for as long as he could bear. His eyes wandered. 

“I don’t want to fight him,” he continued. “He’s always done everything in his power to protect me. But he can’t fight Zarkon off forever. Every time I push too hard against Lotor he has to answer to Zarkon. And this—I went too far.”

Keith didn’t have a response to that. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. Lance couldn’t see himself clearly anymore. 

“Zarkon won’t let him keep me anymore—not after this.”

Keith nodded, hoping Lance felt he could confide in him. In reality, Keith was freaking out. It sounded Like Zarkon didn’t want Lance around. Why would he? As a matter of fact, why let either Lance or Lotor back into the Empire? 

Zarkon publicly announced a kill order for Lotor. Now, Lotor was allowed back with a Paladin of Voltron? It didn’t make any sense. Whatever pieces Keith was missing didn’t matter, not really. What mattered was this: what was happening right now. This was a test for Lance—Keith was sure of it. 

If Lance has been fighting against Lotor, willingly or unwillingly, that would anger Zarkon. Lance made it sound like Lotor was fighting to keep him—like Lotor had begged his father to let Lance stay.

Lotor was trying to break Lance. And from the looks of it, he was failing. 

_Zarkon won’t let him keep me anymore._

This was a test of Lance’s loyalties. Lance had to do something here to prove himself to Zarkon. But what?

Keith couldn’t yell at Lance; that wouldn’t prove anything. Maybe Lance was the one who was supposed to fight Keith. Keith wracked his brain, trying to find something to do. 

Keith had to get Lance to attack him—to yell at him. Could Keith provoke him? Even if he could, Keith refused. Lance was in a fragile state right now, Keith didn’t want to take advantage of that. As selfish as it was, Keith couldn’t let Lance feel _that_ alone, not even to save his life. Keith wanted Lance to know that Keith was here for him. 

Finally, he remembered. In the Red Lion’s void, Keith had relieved a hundred battles. One of them was Keith’s fault. The new, hot-headed leader of Voltron. Keith chased after Lotor early, convinced they had to take him out as soon as possible. Lotor turned their fire against themselves. Where Keith aimed, Lotor dodged and his firepower would hit one of the lions. 

“Good,” Keith growled. 

Lance gave him a weird look. “Thanks? Missed you too, buddy.”

“It’s for the best.” Keith spread his hands. “Lotor was always a coward, anyway.”

Lance sat up. He blinked, confused. “Excuse me?”

“You remember, don’t you?” Keith laughed. “He never did anything for himself. He sent us to retrieve the comet—”

“—he was physically incapable of—”

“He made us use our own firepower against us. He lured us into that fog so we would blow ourselves up!” 

Lance stood. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Keith rose slowly so he wouldn’t startle Lance.

“Why would Zarkon let Lotor keep you here?” Keith asked. “He can’t do anything. Even now, Zarkon is running in to fix his son’s mistakes—like he always has.”

“Don’t, Keith—”

“Lotor has always stayed behind the front lines.”

“I’m begging you—”

“Even after I took over the Black Lion from Shiro. We were weak and uncoordinated, he could’ve fought us! Instead, he bet his life on _us fighting each other_.”

Lance blinked. He balled up his fists. Keith prayed he understood what Keith was trying to say. Lance couldn’t be _that_ far gone. They were still close. They still knew each other. Their bond transcend the physical universe; Lance had to understand. 

“You’re an idiot,” Lance whispered, broken. 

But he understood. Keith _knew_ he understood. 

“Lotor has always outsmarted you,” Lance said, his voice gaining strength. “You’re so brash and hot-headed. You can’t get anything done. Out days with you as the leader—”

Lance took in a deep breath, like he couldn’t force himself to say it. 

“What?” Keith growled. 

“—were some of the worst days of my life.”

That stung. Even though it was fake, it hit Keith hard. It must’ve showed on his face, because Lance started to cry. 

“Lotor has protected me since I got here,” Lance declared. “Better than you did—better than you ever could.”

“ _Lance…_ ” Keith whispered. _It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not…_ “You’re wrong. You can still come home.”

“No.” Lance sounded serious. 

Keith sobbed. He would never be able to take this back: “You’re right. You should feel guilty—selling yourself to the Empire—”

Lance punched him. Keith gasped, the movement so fast he hadn't seen it coming until he was staring at the ceiling. Keith’s body was out of practice, but Lance’s wasn’t. 

“ _This is my home_ ,” Lance sobbed.

“No…” Keith cried. He felt weak, like he’d hit his head. 

The door opened. Keith closed his eyes, hearing footsteps. When he opened his eyes, Lotor was in the room. He was standing in front of Lance, his hands clutching Lance’s face. 

They passed the test. Lance would go back to Lotor now. 

“No…” Keith wailed. 

Lotor turned and glared. Keith saw him march over and raise his foot. Lance cried out, begging Lotor to stop. 

It was the last thing Keith hurt before he was swallowed back into the darkness. 


	13. Slow Burn

**Lance**

* * *

Lotor creeped his way into Lance's life—little by little.

It started out slow. Lotor would summon Lance from his cell for dates. Lance went along with it. He didn't have a choice, really. Lance had paced every square inch of his cell. There was no part of his cell he could use as a weapon or tool for escape. He had a bed but he couldn't take it apart. The chair was permanently sealed to the floor. So Lance went on his dates with Lotor. 

It was so weird, dating Lotor. Lotor acted like Lance _wanted_ to be there with him. Lance learned quickly that Lotor _did not_ want to be reminded otherwise. Lotor proved he was capable of very cruel punishments if Lance didn't follow his orders. So Lance played nice and did what he was told. 

Something started happening to Lance. He couldn't think clearly. He found it harder to focus on his escape—good opportunities rarely presented themselves. Lance found himself following Lotor's orders with ease. Lotor proved that he was capable of great passion and kindness. So Lance did his best to please Lotor. 

He found his instincts shifting from survival to comfort. Lance used to avoid Lotor's punishments first and foremost. Then, Lance started to do things the way Lotor wanted them so he could be rewarded. 

Lance couldn't say when his mind switched. It happened so slowly—he didn't realize until it was too late. 

* * * * *

Lance's room doubled as a cell. There were no windows. The door didn't have a doorknob on Lance's side. 

The lights were bright purple, but shifted to a soft red towards the end of the day. They never turned off completely. For that, Lance was grateful. Lotor turned them off sometimes when Lance screwed up. He'd lock Lance in his room, the only place where Lance was safe from Lotor, then turn out the lights. the white noise machine would turn off. Lance wouldn't be given food. He had no sense of time or self in that kind of isolation. 

Other times when Lotor was angry, he'd beat Lance. He'd force him or manipulate him into painful sex. Lotor would seal that gag over Lance's face and do whatever he wanted to him. 

Lance did his best to make Lotor happy. But sometimes he screwed up. There were moments when Lance's mind detached from his body. He'd lash out and fight against Lotor in a panic. He'd try to run away, he'd freeze up, or he'd start throwing things.

But neither of them saw this coming.

* * * * *

Lance's entire body was tingling. He traced his fingers over the silk sheets. The sheets were so think, but somehow soft as the same time. Lance closed his eyes, taking this single moment of blissful peace to himself. 

Lance felt Lotor's lips sealed over his. It wasn't one of those quick, post-intercourse kisses—it was deeper. Lance smiled, not even opening his eyes before following Lotor's dance at the pace he set. He felt hands on him again, holding him just-too-tight like he always did. 

Lance curled into his warm body. His skin was still moist and a little sticky, but the smell was familiar. Lance took a deep breath in and Lotor pulled away. 

Lance blinked, his eyes readjusting to the lights around the room. They seemed brighter than normal. Lance clasped his hand behind his head, watching Lotor rise from the bed. He looked so different without all of his armor on, it made Lance's heart ache. Lance almost couldn't tell which Lotor he preferred. The one that was all rippling, tense muscles and loose hair—or the one with his hair pinned back elegantly, standing with poise in full battle armor. 

"Enjoying the view?" Lotor teased.

Lance spun his fingers in circles, telling Lotor to turn around. Lotor spun in a circle, his hands stretched to each side.

Lance hummed. "Now I am."

"Well, as much as I hate to disappoint you..." Lotor reached for his clothes, pulling on each layer slowly. 

Lance bit his lip. "I think you should train with less clothes on."

"Well," Lotor sat down, his gaze taunting. "Then we wouldn't be training."

Lance laughed. He left the bed and crossed the room. He scanned the floor until he found his discarded robe. Lance found himself rushing to put it back on. He fumbled with the string. He'd tied this over a hundred times. Why couldn't he figure it out?

Lance could feel Lotor's hand on his back. He stilled, glancing at the prince over his shoulder. Lotor's brows were creased with concern. He reached around Lance with both arms and tied the robe for him. Lance leaned into Lotor's embrace—his arms sweet and tender. 

Then the sinking feeling came back. Lance tensed, edging away from Lotor until Lotor dropped his arms. He spun Lance around to look at him. Lance kept his eyes on the floor. 

"What's wrong?" Lotor's voice was delicate. 

"I feel..." Lance swallowed. " _Wrong_."

"Wrong?" Lotor repeated. "What, like... like last week?"

Lance sucked in a breath. He couldn't answer that. He couldn't tell Lotor he was freaking out—not after what they just did. But he couldn't lie to him either. Lance couldn't do anything. 

"Answer the question."

"Yes," Lance flinched.

"How is that possible?" Lotor asked through grit teeth, clearly frustrated. "I've never been so gentle with you."

"I know," Lance said quickly. 

He didn't want Lotor to take that away from him. He wanted every time to be like that; to be calm and not threatening. But now, Lance was freaking out again. He was so sick of these freak outs! 

"So what's the problem?"

"I don't know."

" _Don't lie_ ," Lotor snapped. 

"I didn't like it," Lance said.

He snapped his mouth shut. Lance didn't mean to say that—and he didn't think it. Lance didn't know why he said that. As much as he tried, he couldn't stop himself from talking. And the words that came out? Lance didn't know where they were coming from.

"I don't want to do that again," Lance continued. "It felt bad. I don't want—I feel gross."

"You feel gross," Lotor mirrored emptily. 

Lance nodded, his eyes welling up. He din't just feel gross—he felt disgusting. Lance felt like there was something wrong with him. His mind was broken; his body impure and worthless. 

Lotor grabbed his arm, his grip threatening. "How is that _possible_?"

"I don't know," Lance swore. "Please just... let go of my arm and—and I'll calm down."

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No," Lance shouted. "Don't. I can do this on my own."

Lotor started to pull him towards the door. 

"Just let me try!" Lance pleaded, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. "You can't just..."

Lotor stopped suddenly and glared and Lance. "I can't what?"

Lance sobbed. He shouldn't have said that. "Please, don't take me to the hospital. I can figure this out."

Lotor scoffed grabbing Lance's are and jerking him forward. Lance's feet dragged behind him. He tried everything he could to stay behind, but Lotor's grip was too strong. 

"Listen to me—"

" _Stop—talking_ ," Lotor ordered. 

"No," Lance tried to explain. "I can do it. You have to trust me I can—" his heart started beating faster. He could feel his breathing growing out of control. There's no way Lotor would ever trust him to so this; not when he thought he knew best.

He would never listen. 

"You can't just drag me to the hospital every time something happens!" Lance screamed.

He spun, trying to jerk away from Lotor. Lotor's grip tightened until Lance could feel it in his bones. Lance collapsed onto his knees, his back arching in pain. 

"No, no, stop," Lance sobbed. "I'm okay. I'm fine, _I swear_."

Lotor grabbed his other arm and pulled him to his feet. Lance curled in on himself, trying to get away from him. He didn't want to go to that weird hospital. The lights were to bright; the doctor's too insensitive. They never let Lance breath through it. 

Lance knew if he was given the chance, he could calm down. If Lance knew for certain that Lotor wouldn't beat him or drag him away every time he messed up, Lance would be able to calm down. Instead, Lotor always tried to fix Lance by forcing him. Didn't Lotor want Lance to figure this out? What was he going to do? Drag Lance to the hospital every week for the rest of their lives?

_For the rest of their lives._

"Please, just let me go," lance begged. "Just let me stay with you—I don't like them. Please, please..."

Lotor pinned Lance under his arm, holding him up and coaxing him out the door. Lance's nerves were working in overtime. Every inch where their bodies met felt like fire. Lotor's hair wasn't majestic anymore; it was ragged like a lunatic. His eyes weren't kind; they were dark and evil. Lance couldn't recognize his Lotor anymore. 

Something was different. Lotor had turned into something right before Lance's eyes—and he didn't have the time to stop and think it through. 

Lance took a deep breath and threw his entire body weight backwards. he slipped through Lotor's hold, landing painfully on the floor. Lance tried to roll out of it, but he couldn't feel his arms and legs. Something was wrong, it was Like Lance wasn't inside his body anymore.

Lotor spared no time: he marched towards Lance with his fists clenched. When he swung his fist, Lance crossed his arms and blocked the assault. Lotor's eyes widened with rage. Slowly, his eyebrows furrowed and he stood up. He kicked Lance with as much energy as he could muster—even harder than Lance had seen him kick when they were training. Lance rolled to the side, spinning up and landing on his feet. 

He had a moment where he swelled with pride, glad to finally be in control again. That moment ended. His back was slammed against the table. the sharp edge of the metal dug into Lance's spine. His neck hurt. Lotor had charged and shoved him. His hand was clasped around Lance's neck. Lance brought his hand up and punched Lotor, landing a hit to his face. They both stood still, perfectly stunned. Lotor gasped, blood running down his face and onto the floor. Beautiful streams of red covered his lips.

When their eyes met, they both knew what was going to happen. Lotor didn't order him to stand down and Lance didn't beg for mercy. The two exploded into action, limps flying in an equally desperate battle to win.

Lotor's hands came up to grab his neck. Lance scrambled back, grabbing an ornament from the table to smash it against Lotor's head. Lotor caught his arm by the wrist before he could make contact. Lance quickly threw it into his other hand. Instead of hitting him with the silver sphere, he chucked it as hard as he could. It shattered against Lotor's skull. Little shards of glass and metal exploded onto the floor. 

Lotor grabbed Lance by the collar and threw him back into the wall. He knocked the air right out of Lance's lungs. Lance heaved, trying to breath when Lotor threw him into the wall again. This time, Lance's skull collided with the metal with a devastating crack.

Lance felt like his whole body was sinking. The world started to turn yellow. Lance couldn't keep his eyes open and he didn't want to. Everything turned black and he couldn't see anymore. Lance reached out blindly—hoping to hold Lotor's face one last time before the lights went out for good.

Lotor grabbed his arm and pulled down. Lance didn't hear it crack—and he felt nothing... but he couldn't move it anymore. Lance felt his whole body spin until he was laying on the floor. Lotor's knees pushed into his ribs until he couldn't breath. 

Lance wanted to tell him he was sorry. He didn't want Lotor to live with this—but Lotor wasn't going to listen to him. 

He was never going to listen to him.

Lance could see the colors of Voltron in the sky. It disappeared in a flash and he saw a clear glass in Lotor's hand—glowing yellow as he lifted it to Lance's lips. He saw flowers over a field, but he couldn't tell if they were wild flowers or roses or sunflowers or if they were flowers at all. He didn't know anymore. He saw the color blue—like the ocean or the sky.

Lance decided to give in without another word. He felt his whole body relax. He couldn't connect the thoughts in his brain anymore. He saw random glitched of his life—random traces of thought as Lance felt himself coming undone into nothing. 

* * * * *

"Lance," Lotor's voice was insistent—prying through the darkness. "Listen to me—you have to behave."

Lance grunted. 

"Open your eyes," Lotor demanded. "Open your eyes and tell me you can hear me..."

Lotor's voice faded away. Lance let himself slip—he didn't want to be awake right now. By the time Lance did open his eyes, he heard screaming. Lotor and Zarkon were having it out in the corner of the med bay—shouting in an old Galran dialect Lance couldn't understand. 

Lance listened as much as he could, but the words didn't make sense. Some of them were familiar from past fights. Lotor's tone was informing Lance's understanding of the fight. Lotor was picking different tactics and throwing them away too fast. Lance had seen all of these arguments before. So far Lotor had used the argument of _intellectual superiority_ , the _offended by your accusations_ attitude, and now he was onto _humble groveling_. 

Lotor made eye contact with Lance, but didn't react. Lotor casually stepped to the side, spinning Zarkon so that he wouldn't be able to see Lance. He did it so smoothly—without Zarkon even noticing—it made Lance wonder if Lotor did things like that to him. 

Lotor's voice grew calmer and quieter. 

"He hit you!" Zarkon yelled. 

Lance flinched, pushing himself back into the hospital bed. He was really in trouble now. 

Lotor's nose had trails of dried blood from where he hit him. His jaw was lightly bruised. He had scratches all over his arms and neck from Lance's fingernails. 

Zarkon turned around. Lance stared at the yellow glow hiding behind his helmet. At this point, Zarkon was just one of Haggar's beasts; powerful, mechanical, and dangerous. Lance narrowed his eyes. Underneath that was the man who murdered billions building his empire. 

Zarkon charged with a steely calm expression. He slapped Lance with the back of his hand. The floor and ceiling blended together. Lance's mouth tastes like copper. As he was coming back to himself, he felt unfamiliar hands on his wrists. Thick steel locked over his wrists. Lance turned his head and watched as Zarkon covered his eyes with a thick blindfold. He tied it so tight Lance felt his skin scraping off. 

"Father I— _Lord Zarkon_ , please don't—"

Zarkon grabbed Lance's arm and jerked him up from the bed. 

Lance tried not to react—he didn't want to give Zarkon the satisfaction. But he was so scared. He couldn't see anything. He could barely hear what was happening. Every time Zarkon moved Lance, he whimpered like a frightened dog. 

Zarkon led Lance out of the room. It took a lot of effort for Lance to get his feet stable underneath him. Zarkon was forcing him to walk in front of him. It was awkward. Lance was barely half of Zarkon's height. He had to walk quickly on his toes so Zarkon wouldn't step on him. 

"Where are you taking me?" Lance asked, voice steady. 

"Do not speak, Paladin," Zarkon growled. "We're settling this— _today_."

"Settling..." Lance swallowed. "Settling what?"

Zarkon kicked Lance's leg. Lance fell painfully on his knees. He tried to rise as quickly as he could, but Zarkon already had Lance by the neck. He pulled him up and dragged him along until Lance got his balance. 

Lance realized he couldn't hear Lotor's footsteps behind them. Lance turned to look, even though he was blindfolded. 

"Lotor?" Lance asked. 

"He's not coming," Zarkon snapped. 

"But—"

"You're done." Zarkon pushed Lance faster down the hall. 

Lance gagged. _Done with Lotor?_ What did that mean for him?

"Lotor—"

Zarkon's hand clutched the bottom of Lance's face. Lance couldn't move his jaw. Lance dragged his feet behind him. If Zarkon was ending his relationship with Lotor, then Lance was as good as dead. Zarkon was having none of that: he wrapped his other arm around Lance's upper half and jerked him all the way to a door. 

Zarkon's hand over his mouth felt like cold metal—just like the gag Lotor always used on him when he didn't want to hear him complain. Lance started to talk. He could hear his smothered words. Lance kept talking, just to hear his own voice. _It wasn't the gag. It wasn't the gag_. 

Talking only angered Zarkon more. Lotor would've been disappointed. Lance had a chance to get on Zarkon's good side and gain his trust. Lance squandered the opportunity to comfort himself; it was cowardly. 

Lance heard a door hiss open. Lance stumbled inside. Zarkon got more aggressive with him—wrestling him across the room. 

"I said," a broken voice declared. " _Let him go_."

It took Lance a moment to figure it out. He jerked his head to see the owner of the voice. It didn't seem possible—it wasn't possible. Lance hadn't heard that voice in so long. A pinch in the back of his mind nagged; he knew that voice. 

It was a voice Lance wanted to forget.

* * * * *

_You’re right. You should feel guilty—selling yourself to the Empire._

That's exactly what happened. Lance's body had become something different. Lance couldn't even think about himself anymore without throwing up and crying. He was disgusting—of course Keith would think that, too. Every part of Lance was unlovable and imperfect. He was blemished and violated to the core.

There wan't anything left of him anymore.

Lance didn't feel himself move. His legs extended and his fist collided with something hard. Lance stood over Keith, his fists clenched. Every nerve in Lance's body was tingling to act. He wanted so badly to attack and maul and destroy—but he never got the chance. Lotor always beat him to a pulp in training. Lance couldn't keep up with him. An energy hummed in his veins that he didn't now was there before. He wanted to bury his teeth in flesh until he tasted blood and felt it rip open Lance wanted to _fight_. 

Keith stared at him with dazed eyes, begging him to come home. He promised that Lance had a place there—but that wasn't true anymore.

Lance wasn't what he used to be. His combat skills were abysmal—he never beat Lotor in a fight. He was never a fantastic pilot to begin with, but now he was out of practice. Maybe Lance was once a brave fighter, but now he crumbled under Lotor's every order. He wasn't anything Voltron would want. There was nothing left but rubble.

Looking at Keith on the floor, Lance remembered himself. He glimpsed through the smoke and saw who he used to be. Lance remembered spending hours on the training deck, training himself to shoot. He didn't tell the others at first, he wanted to surprise them. He wanted them to see his value—so they couldn't see him shoot until he could hit a bulls eye. He wanted to be valuable, even then. So he found a way.

Now, Lance hadn't touched a gun in months. 

Keith was right. Lance sold himself to the Galra Empire. He whored himself to Lotor for his own safety. There was no place for him in the coalition anymore. 

Lance's face tingled. Lotor had stepped into the room during Lance's fight with Keith. Both of his hands were on Lance's face, thumbs caressing his cheek. 

"Look at me," Lotor whispered. "Don't look at him anymore."

Lance couldn't snap his eyes away. His face felt weirdly wet. Keith laid on the floor, glaring at Lotor with flaming anger. Lance shook his head slightly, warning Keith to back down—Lotor would kill him. Now Lance understood why Lotor 

Lotor turned to see what was happening. Lance snapped his head away from Lotor's grip. "Lotor—"

Lotor stepped towards Keith. Lance clawed at his arms before he could stop himself. Lotor jerked his arm away roughly—pushing Lance away at the same time. It took him less than two steps to reach Keith and raise his foot over his head. 

"Stop!" Lance begged. "Lotor—"

Lotor's foot collided with Keith's head. Keith's skull cracked against the metal floor.

"No!" Lance dove. 

Lotor's arm blocked him, holding him away from Keith. Keith's eyes darted underneath his eyelids. Lance held onto Lotor's arm for dear life, his heart pounding at a million miles an hour. 

"Stop it, Lance," Lotor hissed. "It's over!"

"Did you..." Lance took a deep breath. "You have to get him to the hospital."

" _Lance_ ," Lotor scolded. "Do not do this to me right now—do not make me do this." 

Lance stilled in his arms. He met Lotor's eye. "Help him."

Lotor's lips pursed and his brow furrowed. "We're leaving, now."

"No."

" _Lance_ ," Lotor hissed. "You did everything right. Now let's _go_. Don't ruin it."

Lotor was right. They had to get out of here before Lance freaked out again. If he rebelled in front of Zarkon, they would be screwed. Lance was going to have to leave Keith behind to save him. 

Keith grunted on the floor. He shifted, rolling onto his side. His pried his eyelids open. Keith's indigo eyes looked dazed and unfocused. He slowly grew more focused until he held Lance's gaze, his eyes determined. 

Lance swallowed, taking a step back. He couldn't leave here with Lotor. Keith wouldn't know what was happening. He would have no idea that Lance was protecting him. He'd think Lance was weak. 

Lotor stepped in front of him—obscuring Lance's view of Keith. He grabbed Lance by both of his arms and shook him violently. "Snap out of it!"

"I can't," Lance whispered so Keith couldn't hear him. "I can't."

Lotor glared. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lance cut him off. 

"I'm trying. I'm trying so hard, Lotor. My feet won't move."

Lotor's face was unreadable. Finally, he leaned in. He spoke barely above a whisper. "Do you want me to force you?"

Lance sobbed. He crossed his arms and fell again the wall. He was too weak to do anything. He wanted to be a Paladin again—brave and strong. 

Lotor twisted Lance around before Lance could react. Lance felt his whole body being thrown against the wall. Both hands came up to stop himself from colliding into the wall. Lotor grabbed each hand by the wrist and manhandled them behind his back. Lance felt thick, braided rope burning into his skin and Lotor ties the ropes too tight. 

Keith screamed behind him. Lance heard shuffling and stomping. Keith was in pain. Lance turned to see what was happening, but Lotor stuck him so hard he fell over. Lance could barely hear through the daze. 

"No!" Keith was yelling. "Get off of me! Don't touch him!"

Lotor lifted Lance up, forcing him to walk out of the cell. 

"Lance, I promise—"

Zarkon closed the door. 


	14. Wildfire

**Lotor**

* * *

Zarkon closed the door behind them. He looked angry. 

"Father, please," Lotor begged shamelessly. "He can't help it—he doesn't know what he's doing. He can't stop himself."

Zarkon looked down at Lance, the young paladin shivering in Lotor's firm grasp. Lance's face was burning red, tears and spit dripped down his face. Lotor hated seeing him like that. He wanted to get Lance to the hospital and have the doctor's put him under. Then Lance would wake up and everything would be okay again. 

Zarkon held his hand out, clutching Lance's face. 

"No."Lance jerked his head back, curling into Lotor's body. " _Lotor_..."

"How could you love a creature so weak?" Zarkon seethed. 

"He's not weak," Lotor insisted. 

Zarkon shook his head. "Get this creature out of my sight. I want nothing to do with him anymore."

Lotor's heart stopped. Was Zarkon ordering the guards to take Lance away from him? Lotor curled around Lance protectively. "Father—"

"Keep your brat," Zarkon snapped. "You'll be bored of him in a year." 

Lotor wanted to argue. That wasn't true—he was in love with Lance. Lotor didn't. Zarkon was letting them go, he was giving Lotor permission to keep Lance and not interfere. Maybe, now that Zarkon wasn't breathing down their necks, Lotor could figure out what was happening to Lance and fix it. 

And if Zarkon was giving up on Lance... Lotor could probably stop the quintessence treatments. He didn't have to poison Lance's energy to make him compatible with the Blue Lion. 

Lotor dragged Lance down the hall and out of his father's sight. Lance struggled the whole way, something inside him fighting back against Lotor, even now.

Lotor growled. He was never going to tell Lance Keith was in galra custody. Lance didn't need that kind of pressure. Now, Lance would feel obligated to do something. As much as Lance loved Lotor—as much as Lotor knew he loved him—he would have to set Keith free somehow. Otherwise, it would haunt him. 

Lotor brought Lance to his room. He ordered the guards leave—all of them. Lotor wasn't worried about Lance losing it again. Maybe it was hopeful thinking, but Lotor was sure they could get these freak-outs to stop. 

Lance's whole body turned rigid against Lotor's. "No, don't!"

Lotor frowned. "Lance? What do you—"

Lotor followed Lance's gaze. Lance was staring at the heavy doors on the other side of the room. Lotor had only dragged Lance into that room once. Lance hadn't been himself for weeks after that. Lotor had curtains installed over the doors so that Lance wouldn't have to look at them. The curtains were drawn back. Lotor had opened the doors to get access to the emergency medical supplies. 

Lotor dropped Lance on the bed and ran to close the curtains. When he returned to Lance's side, he was curled in on himself. Lotor knelt by him, rubbing his back and shushing him. Lance started to calm. 

"I'm weak," he whispered. "Weak."

"No," Lotor pulled Lance into a sitting position. "You think my father has any idea—he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"But it was true."

"No!" Lotor seethed. "You have no idea, Lance..."

Lance blinked at him, his breathing choked and sharp. 

"I see your strength, everyday," Lotor told him. "It's so heartbreaking to know that you will never see what I see. You are so strong."

Lance shook his hand and rolled into a ball again.

"I'm going to untie your bonds." Lotor touched his wrists. 

"No!" Lance screamed. "I mean, not yet. Please?"

Lotor looked at the burned flash around the ropes. Lance had been digging his flesh into the tight ropes, peeling his skin off. The wounds shone with sweat and blood. 

"Lance..."

"No," Lance insisted, his voice finally steady again. "I'm not ready."

Lotor took his hands off. He didn't understand, but he was inclined to do what Lance asked. 

"Can I set you on the bed?"

Lance froze. A thousand expressions glittered across his face as he fought a war against himself. Finally, he looked calm. "Yes, I think that's okay."

 _I think_ , Lotor noticed. _Maybe Lance really doesn't know what's happening to him, either._

Lotor glanced at the bed. The sheets were still thrown around from before their fight. the servants hadn't seen to it yet. Lotor quickly smoothed the sheets as quickly as he could. He picked Lance up and laid him across the dark blankets. He laid down beside him, running his fingers through Lance's hair. 

Lance's hair was getting longer. Lotor had never sent him to have it cut. It was curling at the edges, like delicate waves. Lotor would have to take Lance to a planet with some water, and soon. Lance loved the water. He said it reminded him of home. 

Lotor paused. He wondered where Lance was from... Could they get there? That would be one hell of a present. It might even be enough to earn Lance's heart forever. 

"I think I understand what's been going wrong," Lotor whispered. 

Land opened his eyes. He wasn't crying anymore. 

"I have been moving too fast for you," Lotor tried to explain. "Not because you're delicate. Not because you're not ready..." 

Lance looked away.

"I understand old loyalties. I understand pride," Lotor sighed. "You don't want them to see you with me. You want them to think of you as a strong fighter..."

Lance sobbed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why."

"I do."

Lance eye's were wide and pleading. "Then help me."

Lotor pulled him in, enveloping him in his sturdy grip. Lance was ashamed, pure and simple. He hated himself for giving in to Lotor. 

It didn't matter how kind Lotor was. It didn't matter how much he cared for Lance or how well he took care of him. All Lance could think about was what _they_ thought of him. How _they_ would judge him for being with Lotor. How _they_ would feel about him not being a paladin. 

Lotor knew Lance cared about his friends. He knew going in that Lance wouldn't want to leave them—that this would take time. But he didn't expect it to be this bad. 

If Lotor had taken things a little slower, they wouldn't be having these problems. 

"I'm taking you back to your cell," Lotor announced. 

Lance's lip trembled. "You don't have to—"

"You don't have a say in the matter," Lotor snapped. 

Lance snapped his mouth shut. If Lance was so worried about being complacent, then Lotor would take that burden away from him. 

He wouldn't be giving Lance a voice in what happens to him for a long, long time. 

*** * * * ***

For the next week, Lance could barely stand to be in a room with Lotor. It was starting to hurt. Every time Lotor went into Lance's room, the paladin made a point to yell at him—even attack him if he got too close. 

Lance was feeling a burning obligation and loyalty to his leader—that was expected. Keith was still on the ship. Lance's conscience wasn't handling it well. 

Lotor was starting to lose his patience with Lance. He was trying to be understanding, but Lance was making it impossible to be kind. Lotor went to visit him again, taking deep breaths at the door before opening it. Lance was still restrained to his bed, by the chain on his wrist. Lotor thought it would help him. If he was restrained, he could feel more like a prisoner—like Keith. it had helped for a little while, but it was losing it's effect. 

Lotor needed to try something else. 

The next time he visited Lance, he brought the gag. He knew how much Lance hated this thing, he knew it was what Lance called a 'trigger', but that didn't matter anymore. Lance had been yelling at him, it was time for that to stop.

Lotor brought more restraints. Lance might try to attack him again. Or he might try to communicate with his hands. If Lotor was being honest with himself, he would rather Lance try to attack him. 

Lance only attacked him as a stress response. Something about his species and their so-called 'triggers' was forcing Lance to act out in ways Lotor couldn't predict. Now, Lotor understood that Lance had no say in the matter. Beforehand, Lotor would just take him to the hospital to be put under. Even then, he knew there was something going on—he just didn't know what. 

But defying him? That was what made Lotor's blood boil. He hated the thought of Lance defying him of his own volition. 

Lance looked at the gag and restraints in Lotor's hand. He bolted up from the bed, standing close to the bed post his wrist was attached to. 

Lotor glared at him. When Lance was feeling out of control, he'd scurry away from Lotor like a frightened animal. But standing close to the bed post? Lance was giving himself the most mobility possible. He was maximized his options—preparing for a fight. 

"Stand down," Lotor growled.

"No."

Lotor raised his eyes. There were very few times that Lance made him want to hit him, but this was one of those times. 

"No?"

Lance looked down. "I'll stand down. Just no to... to _that."_ Lance pointed at the gag. "No."

"That's not your decision to make," Lotor sneered. 

"We agreed."

"We?" Lotor laughed. "I think _we_ don't get to discus things like this anymore. _We_ don't have a say anymore. _I_ do. Now sit down." 

"Promise me you won't." 

"Sit." 

Lance shook his head, crying. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't do it."

Lotor walked over to him, holding his face. Lance didn't smack his hand away. Lance didn't fight. He looked into Lotor's eyes, pleading with him. 

And it made Lotor so mad.

Lance had been acting up for a week. Now that Lotor was threatening him with the thing he feared most, he was giving in? Would Lotor have to threaten him with it all the time? What happened if Lance didn't believe him. 

No. Not an option. Lance needed to know Lotor was serious. 

Lance leaned in, as if he was going to kiss Lotor. Lotor grabbed his face by the cheeks. He pushed Lance back until he sat on the bed. 

Lotor walked to the table, retrieving a strip of cloth. 

"No, no, no, no—" Lance panicked. 

When Lotor turned around, Lance could see the blindfold in his hands. Lance relaxed. 

Lotor didn't understand it. Lance could stand the blindfold designed to block out all light, but he couldn't stand the gag designed to prevent him from making a sound?

Lotor handed it to Lance. "Put this on."

Lance grabbed it. Raising it slowly to cover his eyes. He sealed it over his eyes and reached behind his head to tighten it. He sucked in a breath once it clicked into place—trapping him in darkness. 

Lotor walked to the table. He ran his hand along the gag—the muzzle. He could put this on Lance now. Lance would never see it coming. He wouldn't be able to fight until it was too late. Lotor figured he should probably restrain lance first—but that wasn't the message he wanted to send. 

He didn't want to use Lance's trust to restrain him and then gag him. He wanted Lance to accept his punishment without fighting. He wanted Lance to take the gag over his mouth without fighting. Besides, Lotor didn't want Lance to freak out every time he restrained him—he couldn't break that part of Lance's trust. 

Lotor approached the bed. 

"Why do you hate the gag?"

Lance tensed. 

"Explain."

"Because it..." Lance covered his ears, rocking back and forth before sitting still again. "You can't hear me. I can't tell you to stop—I can't tell you I'm in pain... I can't even tell you _I'm sorry_ for what I did."

"I can tell," Lotor said softly. "I can tell when you're sorry."

"But I can't tell you. I have to be able to tell you."

Lotor tapped Lance's leg. "You know... I could put this on you right now?"

"You physically could," Lance barked.

"No," Lotor demanded. "Tell me that I could no matter what."

Lance was sitting very, very still. 

"Tell me."

Lance took deep breaths, clearly trying not to freak out. "You could."

"You wouldn't fight."

"N—" Lance sobbed. " _No_."

"So I can put this on?" Lotor asked. 

Lance sobbed, his voice broken. He was breaking right in front of Lotor. Lotor didn't want Lance to break. He wanted him to _survive_. "Y—Yes."

Lotor smiled. That was all he needed to hear. Lotor set the muzzle down on the bed. 

"What difference would it make?" Lance spat. "You won't listen to me no matter what I do—you never do. You don't care. You'll never listen to me! You'll make me say you can put it on so you don't have to live with the fact that you've hurt me! But I want you to—"

Lotor slapped him. Lance fell back on the bed. Lotor grabbed the gag. He clenched Lance cheeks, holding his face still as he lowered the muzzle over his face. 

"I want you to know it's your fault!" Lance screamed desperately. "It's your fault! I hate you! You hurt me and it's your fault—I'm not going to tell you it's okay to ease your guilt you... you _bastard_."

Lotor sealed it over Lance's mouth. Lance freaked out instantly. He tried to claw it off. He tried to get Lotor's attention He pounded on his chest. If he was crying, Lotor couldn't hear. The gag was designed to silence that, too.

Maybe that was why Lance was afraid of the gag and not the blindfold. With the blindfold, Lotor couldn't see Lance's reactions, but he could hear him breathing. He could hear Lance panic. He could slow down when it was too much or speed up when it was just enough. 

Lotor ripped the gag off, pulling Lance's trembling body into his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—oh my god, I am so, so sorry."

Lance just nodded his head, curling into Lotor's chest while he took deep breaths. Lotor shushed him soothingly, rubbing his back and cradling him. 

"It'll be okay," Lotor promised. "I'll—I'll have it destroyed."

Lance wrapped his arms around Lotor. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—"

Lotor kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then his neck. Lance placed his hands on Lotor's neck, trying to find his face before kissing him passionately on the lips. Lotor kissed back, quickly taking control of the kiss and disrobing Lance as fast as he could. 

As mad as Lance was at him—they knew this dance. They'd done this hundreds of times before. Even now, with Lance more confused and scared than he'd ever been, he knew what it felt like to be with Lotor. No matter what happened, Lotor knew how to provide that comfort. 

And it's always so much better to hear Lance's voice. Lance's heavy breaths were like a melody. His words were the perfect lyrics to his song. 

Lotor was done taking that away from him.

When it was over, Lotor held him tight on Lance's bed. He smoothed his hands over every inch of Lance's skin. Lotor hadn't even had time to take off most of his clothes. Lotor ran his finger's through Lance's hair, but kept the blindfold on. 

"Lance?" Lotor hummed as quietly as he could.

"Yeah?" Lance's voice was quiet. 

"I really didn't come in here to do that," Lotor explained. "I didn't mean to sleep with you."

Lance sighed, not pulling away from Lotor's embrace. "I didn't mean to either," he sighed.

They held each other for as long as possible. But when Lotor left, he still had to leave the bind on Lance's wrist. 

*** * * * ***

The next time Lotor went to see Lance, he had a heavy case with him. He slammed it on the table after he stepped into the room, two guards behind him. 

Lance jumped up from his spot on the floor. He had curled around the post at the foot of the bed. A long chain attached his wrist to the bed post. The skin around Lance's arm was rubbed red from all the time spent pulling his restraints. He was cradling his wrist, like he'd injured himself. 

It had been nearly a week since Lotor locked Lance away in his cell. It was driving Lotor crazy. He hated that Lance was more comfortable as a prisoner than he was as Lotor's partner. Lotor was here to put a stop to that. 

Lotor kept his back turned, not looking at or speaking to Lance once. He snapped his fingers and the guards descended on him. He listened as Lance struggled against the guards. But he was in no condition to fight—Lotor knew he was exhausted.

When Lotor turned around, they had strapped each of his arms to the chair. Another strap was tightened around his chest to pin his limbs down. 

It would have to do. 

Lotor approached Lance, four heavy crescents of hardened steel in his hand. Lance shifted back in his chair. Lotor watched as Lance kicked anxiously. 

"Hold him," Lotor ordered. The guards returned, putting their hands on Lance's shoulders and his knees—keeping him from moving his legs.

Lotor knelt down, carefully connecting the metal over Lance's ankles. Soon, Lance had heavy metal cuffs attacked to each ankle. 

When he was done, he waved the guards away. "Leave us."

The door shut with a sickening crash. Lance flinched, his whole body tensing. He wouldn't look Lotor in the eye. 

Lotor was still kneeling by Lance's feet. He took one of Lance's bare feet in his hands, digging his fingertips into the rigidly tense muscles. Lance made pained sounds as Lotor prodded his sensitive skin _just_ too hard. 

"What are those?" Lance finally asked. 

Lotor smirked. "My insurance."

"Your insurance?" Lance sounded nervous. Lotor could see his chest heaving.

Lotor dug his thumb into the arch of Lance's foot. Lance writhed uncomfortably, his face contorted with pain. Lotor smoothed the area just as quickly, watching as Lance melted back into a calm state. Lotor dropped Lance's foot, letting it hit the ground without a care. 

Lance looked dazed and confused and close to tears. Before Lance could reach, Lotor drew his short sword, slicing across Lance's bonds and knocking the chair over. Lance toppled out of the chair, scrambling away from Lotor as fast as he could. The chain on his wrist stopped him from going too far. 

Lotor stood over Lance. Lotor's energy was so high and intense didn't know what he was going to do. His stomach was swirling in anticipation. For the first time in his life, Lotor felt his body taking over his mind. 

And he liked it. 

Lotor grabbed Lance by his shirt collar and pulled him to his face. Lance looked terrified in a way that thrilled Lotor. This was really going to work. 

Lotor leaned closer to Lance, unlocking the wrist cuff keeping him trapped to the bed. "Run," he ordered. 

Lance froze, clearly confused. Before he could ask, Lotor cast him back to the ground and snapped his fingers. As planned, the guards turned off the lights in the room and in the hallway. Lance wouldn't be able to see him now. Lotor backed out of the room, being sure to leave the door open. 

Lotor nodded at the guards and they called for the alarms to switch on. Loud sirens blared throughout the deck—red lights flashing on and off. 

Lotor watched through flashed of red. Lance had crept to his doorway, peeking around the corner with obvious hesitation. There's no way Lance understood what was happening. Lotor preferred it that way. 

Lance booked it out of his cell. His pace was awkward. He was barely compensating for the heavy cuffs on his legs. They clacked together every other step, nearly sending Lance in a spiral to the ground. Finally, Lance hit his ankles too hard and tumbled to the ground. He held out his arms to stop himself. At the last second, Lance tucked his arms to his chest and rolled—clearly remembering the injury on his wrist. 

As quickly as he'd fallen, he got back up. Lance was started to accommodate the heavy cuffs. Lotor couldn't have that. 

Lance stopped in the middle of the hall. He clutched his heart, like he'd been hit in the chest. Lotor stopped pursuing him, keeping his breathing as low as he could. 

" _Red_?" Lance whispered. 

Lotor's heart seized. The Red Lion. Zarkon must have brought it here with Keith. Zarkon didn't know Lance was the red paladin—Lotor told him he was Blue's pilot. If the Red Lion broke free, Lance might try to escape—for real. 

"Come out and fight me, coward!" Lance hollered.

Lotor stepped closer, creeping up on Lance like a predator corner his prey. Lance locked eyes with him—a newfound rage and determination shining in his blue eyes. Lance held his fists up, ready to fight. Lotor discarded his sword and gun. Lotor would beat Lance at his own game, then he'd never fight against Lotor again. 

Lotor charged, expecting Lance to meet him. Instead, Lance turned and ran. If there was one thing Lance could best Lotor in, it was a race. Lotor couldn't catch up to him no matter how hard he tried. But now, Lance's gait was thrown off by his heavy cuffs. He was exhausted and starved. Lance didn't stand a chance. Lotor was tempted to run him down all on his own, but that's not why he was doing any of this. 

He needed Lance to try and escape. Lance had never tried to escape in his entire time here. In fact, Lotor knew Lance had that little voice in his mind asking _what if_ —Lotor couldn't have that anymore. Now, Lance had the opportunity to understand that he wasn't here with Lotor because he didn't escape. Lotor needed to show him it was because he _couldn't_.

Lotor pulled the controller out of his pocket and switched on the magnets in Lance's ankle cuffs. The metal reacted instantly, sending Lance falling forward and his ankles jerked together without warning. Lance tumbled to the ground, his body skidding across the cold metal floor. Lance started to scurry away, so Lotor magnetized them to the floor. Lance was stuck. 

Lotor stood over him. "Did you think it was going to be that easy?"

"Lotor—" Lance looked at his ankles. "What did you do?"

Lotor flipped a switch. Lance screamed as he felt the painful shocks illuminating his bones. Lotor turned them off, watching Lance collapse onto the floor. 

Lance's chest heaved. "Lotor..." 

Lotor knelt over Lance, holding his wrists down by his shoulders. Lance tried to kick him, but his legs were weighed to the floor. 

"And, if that's not enough to stop you," Lotor growled. "Then there's tracking devices in each cuff. You won't be leaving my side." Lotor wrapped his hand around Lance's neck, yanking him up to eye-level by his throat. " _Ever_ ," he growled. 

Lance clawed at Lotor's hands. With how tightly Lotor was holding his neck, there's no way he could breath. 

"You understand?" Lotor seethed.

Lance nodded desperately, his body started to twitch and seize without air. Lotor dropped him.

"I understand..." Lance wheezed. "I understand, I—I understand..."

Lotor reached down, scooping Lance into his arms and carrying him down the hall. Lance's body was still tense, his heart pumping so hard even Lotor could feel it. Lotor brought him to the control room. He forced Lance to sit in one of the chairs, showing him all of the cameras on the deck. 

"This whole deck is sealed off from the rest of the ship," Lotor explained. "The only way in or out of this entire floor is through _my_ room. You understand?"

Lance's eyes scanned the feeds, no doubt noting the camera positions and quality. Lotor wasn't worried about that. There was no possible way Lance could take off those ankle cuffs. He didn't need the cameras to be perfect. Lance slowly nodded. 

"This whole deck," Lotor continued. "They gym, the pool, the race track... everything is closed off. You'll be alone."

Lance perked up. He clearly liked that idea. Lance had told Lotor how uncomfortable he was with being watched. Lotor had been preparing for this for a long time. For the first time in six months, Lance was going to be left unsupervised. He'd only spent time in his room alone. But now, he could roam the halls to go for a swim. He could train to fight and shoot without Lotor's constant presence. 

After all, Zarkon was so convinced Lance didn't matter after that incident with Keith, eh'd given up on monitoring them. Lotor would still be careful, but he was free to resume his work without Haggar's constant supervision. He was free to handle Lance the way he deemed appropriate—not the way Zarkon expected. 

This was going to change their lives.


	15. Lotor's Prince

**Lotor**

* * *

Lotor spent every free moment perfecting the Sincline ships these days. No matter how hard he worked, he was still missing a part of the equation. His first attempt had been shamefully embarrassing. But since that moment, Lotor hadn't found the time to steal away back to the colony. First he'd been stuck on the castle. Then, he was locked under Zarkon and Haggar's supervision. 

Even now, Lotor was afraid of leaving the ship. Zarkon had decided to leave him and Lance alone after the incident with Keith, but would Haggar give up so easily? Haggar could be watching from every corner. Every pair of eyes on the ship had the potential to be a spy. 

No. Lotor would not evacuate to the colony just yet. He'd wait until he was certain. 

Lotor took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders. He'd been using a highly-diluted concentration of pure altean quintessence on Lance for over sixth months now. He was running low. He would have to get more soon. 

And even if Lotor could get to the colony, that quintessence supply was like using a band-aid to stop a leak in a dam. The altean colony would never be capable of supporting the entire Galra Empire. Even a hundred colonies would never give them enough to end the war. 

Lotor had to break through the barrier and into the quintessence field. Then, and only then, could he end the war and establish peace across the empire. The alteans would be free to leave the colony and rejoin the universe. That is, after he delivered the tragic news that the second colony was destroyed by the galra, of course. 

No matter what happened, Lotor couldn't let anyone know what he'd been doing to the alteans. He would remain their sponsor and their protector... he couldn't be found out. 

Lotor decided to return to Honerva's archives. He had access to the whole library now. He was hoping to find some evidence that could lead him to Oriande. Honerva's notes on Oriande increased in the weeks leading up to her demise. She mentioned Alfor had visited the place—and she suspected he might be able to enter the field with the Voltron Lions. 

If Alfor's knowledge of Oriande allowed him to to build a machine that could enter the quintessence field, couldn't Lotor do it too?

Too bad Honerva never made it to Oriande.

*** * * * ***

Lotor returned to his quarters, more frustrated than he'd been in a while. He was so sick of running into dead ends. He removed his armor and sat alone on the bed. He laid down and ran his knuckles across the smooth sheets. The sky light was open. 

Lotor used to feel comforted looking out at the starts from his bed. It felt like a small consistency as his life spiraled out of control. Now it just made him feel lonely. 

Lance loved the stars. 

Lotor retrieved his monitoring tablet from the drawer across the room. He tracked Lance's location to the swimming pool. Lance's ankle trackers had him placed at the edge of the pool. Lotor watched for quite some time. Lance made no moves to enter the pool. 

Lotor decided to join him. He unlocked his bedroom doors and entered the deck constructed for Lance. He ran to the swimming pool. 

Lotor stopped in front of the doors. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking out the pins and letting it fall loose around his head. He opened the doors and saw Lance sitting at the edge of the pool. He wasn't wearing swimwear. His feet dangled over the edge, but weren't touching the water. 

Lotor walked calmly across the room. Lance stared at him as he approached before hanging his head and looking back at the water. Lotor wanted to go sit by him, but he didn't think it would be helpful. Lance was different now. He was curling in on himself. He was completely alone and loved water but he refused to swim. Lotor wanted to bring him out of his shell so he could be happy. 

Lotor took off his boots and stepped into the water. He waded into the water until the level had crept up to his waist. Lotor stopped once he was standing in front of Lance. 

"What's wrong?" Lotor asked. 

Lance shrugged. "Just not feeling up to... anything."

Lotor nodded. Lance hadn't been in control of his life in so long. Every second he spent with Lotor or under Lotor's command. 

"Why don't you join me?" Lotor held out his hands. 

Lance tilted his head. "I'm wearing clothes."

"So am I." 

Lance groaned, but he clearly didn't have a problem with it. Lotor grabbed Lance's wrists and pulled him into the water. Lance gasped as he fell in. 

"It's freezing!" He shivered. 

"Oh, it's not the end of the world," Lotor teased. 

He grabbed Lance's arms and swung him around, watching him drift in the water. Lance kicked awkwardly, he could barely keep himself from sinking. Lotor worried the cuffs were too heavy, but he figured Lance would get used to them eventually. Then, Lance would be stronger. He would run faster. He just had to wait a couple of weeks. 

Lance was smirking.

"What?" Lotor asked innocently.

"You're staring."

"I'm always staring at you, my love."

"No," Lance disagreed. "You're not."

"What are you trying to say?" Lotor asked him. 

"I think—" Lance pulled closer to Lotor. "That you put so much effort into playing cool and above-it-all, but deep inside, you're just a big softy."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes," Lance nodded. 

"A big softy, huh?" Lotor pulled Lance closer, touching their head together. "What would a big softy do in this situation?"

"Don't try to gain the upper hand," Lance warned. 

"Okay," Lotor sighed, feigning defeat. "You win."

"You bet I do."

Lotor wrapped his arms around Lance's waist and kissed him. For the first time in a long time, Lance was smiling.

*** * * * ***

"Come on, Lance," Lotor announced. "I have a present for you."

"A good present?" Lance asked, not moving or opening his eyes. "Because I'm not getting up for anything less than spectacular."

Lotor rolled over, bringing his nose an inch away from Lance's. Lance finally opened his eyes.

Lance sculpted his face into one of boredom. "Yes?"

Lotor snorted. "Get dressed. We're going upstairs."

Lotor got up, hoping Lance would follow his lead. They'd been laying around late into the day almost every morning now. Lotor picked out some boring clothes that would fit under his armor. He'd be returning to the hangar with the Sincline ships for more work later. 

Lance, on the other hand, made his way over to the wardrobe. He'd been experimenting with different kinds of clothes since earning more freedom. He made a point to stay away from anything purple, but other that that, he seemed happy with his options. Lotor watched as he pulled out a complex wrap from the wardrobe.

Lotor shook his head. "You'll hate it."

"Then what do _you_ think I should wear?" Lance asked.

Lotor picked out some clothes for him—red clothes, just like Lance preferred. "Here, these are form fitting—"

"Oh, you want me wearing form fitting clothes?" Lance taunted.

"So they won't be uncomfortable," Lotor laughed. "The fabric is breathable and tough. Temperature controlled and this..." Lotor rubbed his thumbs over the gold and gray jacket. "I know it won't replace yours, but I think you might like it."

Lance put on the clothes Lotor picked out for him. They were relatively boring. Not the kind of thing a prince would wear, but perfect for a warrior. Lance stretched his arms and twisted his waist. He seemed happy. 

"I gotta admit," Lance sang. "Not being in rags is something I can get used to."

Lotor handed him the jacket. Lance hesitated before putting it on. He moved his arms around and played with the zipper. 

"Thanks, I hate it."

Lotor could tell Lance was lying. 

"Good." Lotor put his hand on Lance's lower back. "Now let's go upstairs." 

Lance followed him, his eyes checking every corned and door for activity. Lotor took him to the elevator.

"This will respond to your hand now." Lotor pressed the penthouse button and the elevator took them to the top deck. 

When the doors opened, Lance's jaw dropped. He walked inside, his movements slow and careful. It was as if he wasn't convinced anything around him way real. 

"This is the library," Lotor explained. "Thousands of books, movies, um, music archives... A hub of galran culture. All can be translated—if it isn't already..."

Lotor noticed Lance wasn't really listening. Lotor stopped talking and let Lance take it all in. 

"This is—" Lance spun around. "This is spectacular!"

The library roof was a massive dome at the top of Lotor's new ship. The glass was over twenty meters thick, with perfect temperature control and armor. 

Lance stood under the dome with his eyes glittering with joy. Lotor hadn't seen Lance so hopeful in his entire time with him. 

Lotor swept in, placing two hands on Lance's waist and lifting him up. Lance's arms wrapped around him instantly, the biggest smile on his face. Lance pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes. But Lotor kept his open, staring at the expression of pure bliss on Lance's face. For once, he was unrestrained and unburdened. 

Lotor was going to give everything he could to make Lance feel like this. He wouldn't ever stop. Lance opened his eyes, blushing when they made eyes contact. Lotor set Lance down, admiring the sweet look of confusion and embarrassment on Lance's face. 

"Show me around," Lance ordered. 

Lotor took him around the whole library—showing him every section. Lance almost cried when he saw the ocean room. An entire room that simulated different shores from around the universe. Cold, hot, rainy, windy... Lance could choose. 

"What do you want to do?" Lotor asked. "We could watch an old movie or... where are you going?" 

Lance had wandered to the _languages_ section of the library.

"Lotor?" Lance sounded timid. 

"What do you need?" Lotor asked eagerly. 

"Can I learn the galran language?"

"Well..." Lotor frowned. "I suppose you _can_. Why you would want to... I don't know. Both the galran and altean languages are dead. We speak the universal tongue now."

"But you speak galran," Lance pointed out.

"I'm ten thousand years old, Lance."

"And you never forgot the language."

Lotor blinked. "I suppose not."

"And I don't just want to..." Lance looked around. "Learn about your culture. I want to know about the galra before the war. Back when they spoke the language."

"Have you ever learned a language before?"

Lance gave him a funny look. "I learned the 'universal tongue' for school."

Lotor gasped. "English isn't your first language?"

"Pfft, no," Lance said. "My mamma said language is the key to understanding the world. If you want to speak to someone, do it in his tongue. That's why I didn't learn English until I went to school... I was always going to speak English, no matter what. But she wanted to keep my roots alive."

Lotor beamed. He had never imagined he and Lance had more in common. "What do you speak?"

Lance's face darkened. "I'm going to learn Galran; reading and speaking. It doesn't count if you can't do both." 

Lance's refusal to answer the question wasn't lost on Lotor. Lotor almost wanted to make Lance tell him—he wanted to become closer to him. He wanted to know his language and understand his love of water. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Lance's past.

But he let it go... for now.

*** * * * ***

After weeks of paradise, Lotor decided Lance was ready. Lance would be in the library, as he always was. He was practicing the language full-time. He only took breaks to eat, sleep, and occasionally swim laps. Lotor had volunteered to practice with him, but he suspected Lance was too embarrassed to try.

When Lotor arrived at the library, Lance had completely transformed it. The chairs were pushed to the wall and the tables all piled together in the middle. A child-sized hologram was standing in the middle of the room—so Lance could practice speaking. The dome was illuminated with a bright hologram. It was creating the illusion of a day-lit sky... except it was bright blue. Lotor had seen plenty of blue skies in his time, but never one that was so _pale_. Was Lance's planet far from the sun? No, because Lance said his home was hot. Was it possible that Lance was from a single-stared system?

Those were so rare... Lotor was willing to bet he could find Lance's home planet very soon. He just had to search single-stared systems hosting life beyond the edges of the empire. 

" _End simulation_ ," Lance ordered in Galran. 

Lotor raised an eyebrow. Lance must've changed the language settings on the controls.

" _Lance._ " 

Lotor's voice must've sounded serious, because Lance dropped everything to listen. 

"It's okay," Lotor promised. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to talk with you." 

"Okay," Lance acknowledged quietly. 

Lotor sat down. "I wanted to talk with you about Consent." 

Lance made a face. " _Huh_?"

"Consent, with a capitol 'C'."

"Oh," Lance swallowed, sitting on the edge of the table. "That's a galra thing?"

Lotor sat down by Lance. He reached out, tracing his thumb across Lance's cheek. 

"Yes," Lotor whispered. "It's a galra thing."

Lance didn't say anything. Lotor knew he was scaring him, but maybe that was a good thing. Lance had to know how serious this was. 

"It is a tradition upheld by hundreds of generations. As far back as galra royalty goes, the laws of Consent have been in place."

Lance nodded to convey his understanding, but Lotor could see how confused he was. 

"When a prince or princess of royalty chooses a partner—as I have chosen you—it is up to the partner to offer their Consent," Lotor explained. "And I want you to seriously consider the possibility."

Lance shifted in his seat. "The possibility...?"

"Of offering your Consent."

"But..." Lance bit his lip. 

"It's okay," Lotor urged. "Don't be afraid. Ask." 

"But what _is_ Consent?" 

Lotor grimaced. "Most galra have the advantage of being raised in our culture. They already know all of the intricacies. You... this is difficult, Lance. It's hard to describe." 

"Try," Lance asked. "I'll be patient."

That surprised Lotor. "You will?"

Lance nodded. "However confusing it gets, I promise to trust you. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and... we'll talk it through."

Lotor smiled. "Thank you, Lance. Can I... Maybe I can list some examples?"

"That might help," Lance agreed. 

"So there was this princess, princess Kaya. She was the heir to the throne centuries before my father. She was passing through a village on the planet Feyiv when she met a young woman..." Lotor grabbed a strand of Lance's hair and twirled it in his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. "And she fell in love."

"What was her name?" 

"Leyna," Lotor recalled. "Her name was Leyna. She wasn't galra, but she loved Kaya. Kaya moved to planet Feyiv and worked from there, but eventually they returned to Daibazaal. Where Kaya asked for her Consent."

Lotor looked at his hands, not sure how to continue. 

"It's not customary to ask for Consent—us royals... we're not even supposed to speak of it."

Lance grabbed both of Lotor's hands. "I won't tell if you won't."

Lotor tried to relax. He continued, "Leyna didn't give her Consent. She didn't... she didn't understand what it was. Because it sounds scary. Kaya spent her whole life trying to get Leyna's Consent, but she refused. They stayed together. 

"That is, until Kronas. Kronas was galra and raised on Daibazaal. She grew up in the royal halls. They grew closer until, one day, Kronas approached the princess and offered her Consent. Kaya accepted and they married."

Lance sat up. "Married? Wait, Consent is like... consent to marry?"

"Yes," Lotor said. "But it's not so simple. You see, commoners get married. Galra marry every day. Alteans marry. Anyone can marry. Very few can offer their Consent."

"Why?" Lance asked.

"Because... It's kinder."

"It's kinder?" Lance asked. 

Lotor groaned. "I'm sorry. I'm really not... I thought I'd prepared for this."

"Lotor..." Lance squeezed his hands. "I know you said you can't talk about it, but I have to understand. You have to explain it to me."

Lotor nodded. "I don't want to scare you."

"What are you afraid of?" Lance asked. "I promised to be patient. I promise to listen, no matter how scary."

Lotor cupped Lance's face with both hands. "I don't want you to be my Leyna. I don't want you to be afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Lance pleaded.

"Afraid of being with me. Afraid of marrying me..." Lotor closed his eyes. "Afraid of spending the rest of your life with me."

Lance tried to pull away, but Lotor help him close. He released Lance's face and wrapped his arms around his body, pulling him as close as he could. 

"Leyna never offered her Consent and the princess couldn't ask for it. Eventually, Kaya married Kronas and Leyna... Lance I believe she loved Leyna, but Kaya couldn't wait forever."

Lance looked mad. "Are you saying you'll just, what? Leave me for the first person who offers their Consent?"

"No," Lotor panicked. He kissed Lance, trying to prove that he meant it, but Lance was less than pliant. "I'm not Kaya. I would never—no matter what." 

"Then what is the point of this?"

"I mean," Lotor closed his eyes. "Leyna never married. And i wouldn't want you to—I would never want you to have any regrets. I want you to trust me."

Lance leaned into him. 

He did that sometimes, when he didn't want to reject Lotor. The first time Lotor said _I love you_ , Lance kissed him, but he didn't say it back. Lotor once asked if he was afraid of him and Lance hugged him. In a quiet moment, with Lance falling asleep in Lotor's bed, Lotor asked Lance if he would ever forgive him for taking him. Lance buried his head in Lotor's neck—where he couldn't see his face.

"Okay," Lotor mumbled, Lance was awfully still. Usually, he was only that still before a freak out. "I'm going to go now... leave you with your thoughts."

When Lotor shut the elevator doors, Lance was still sitting on the table—staring his hands in shock.


	16. Abandoned

**Pidge**

* * *

Pidge was kneeling on the floor, just inside the protective barrier of the red lion. She never thought her bond with her lion would be challenged, not like this. 

Pidge and the green lion had a powerful intellectual connection. If Pidge was being honest, she never thought anyone would challenge that. The green lion saw something in Lotor, just as it had seen something in Pidge. It made her sick. 

When the Blade included the green lion as a part of their plan, Pidge was nervous. She thought that they would try to lift the green lion out. That would have brought too much attention to themselves. Their ability to retrieve the green lion was up to her. 

She sat on the ground, staring up at the green lion from where she keeled on the floor. 

_Why did you do this to us?_ Pidge thought. 

The green lion didn't answer. 

Pidge felt like she was going to cry. They couldn't leave a Voltron Lion in the hands of the Galra Empire. If things continued like this, Pidge might have to leave on the Red Lion—and leave her old friend behind. It was the most logical conclusion. 

Pidge stood, her fists clenched. 

_How could you do this to Lance?_ She demanded. 

Pidge realized that that wasn't the problem. As much as she loved Lance, there was something else that angered her. 

_How could you betray_ me _?_

Pidge was crying freely now. The green lion had taken everything they built together and threw it away. Her lion didn't just betray her, Green picked Lotor _over_ her. It decided that Lotor was smarter and a more worthy pilot. The green lion chose all of this _knowing_ that Lotor would betray them to the galra.

 _I know I've been distracted lately,_ Pidge apologized. _I've been looking for my dad. But Lotor is evil. Look at what he's done to Lance! You think Lance_ wanted _to go with him? You think Lance_ wants _to fight as a gladiator?_

Pidge felt the green lion stirring in her heart. She was getting at something. 

_Lotor took Lance and used you as an escape,_ she explained. _We found you close to the Galra Empire, drifting for hours. What happened? Did Lance fight back?_

The lion retreated away from her. 

_No!_ Pidge sobbed. _Just talk to me!_

Pidge knelt again. She was really going to return on the Red Lion. 

_But at least Lance will be safe,_ Pidge snapped. 

"Pidge, go!" Pidge heard Keith scream at the top of his lungs. 

Pidge jumped up, her heart racing. Keith wasn't supposed to activate the long-range comms. On Zarkon's ship—without their armor—they were guaranteed to be caught. He would only risk it if it was life or death. 

But what did Keith mean, _go_? They couldn't just leave Lance.

"I've got him!" Keith shouted so loud the message was distorted. 

Pidge caught her breath. Keith had Lance. He was ordering her to leave. But Pidge couldn't just leave them behind!

"Trust me! Red is coming for us! _Just go now_!”

That meant now. Keith expected her to be on the green lion already. Pidge looked up at the red lion. It wasn't moving for them like he'd said. That meant Pidge still had time to get on the lion and hitch a ride back to the castle. 

Pidge clenched her fists. She charged out of the red lion's barrier—disrupting the cloaking they'd set up around the lion. Now the red lion was in full view of the sentries. Pidge only had a couple seconds before they snapped out of their shock. 

Pidge bolted for her lion.

Pidge and the green lion had more than an intellectual bond. They had a deep emotional and spiritual connection. 

"If you won't let me in," Pidge shouted. "Then we both get stuck here; with Lotor."

The green lion knelt and picked her up in a second. Pidge's heart sparked with glee. It worked! She followed her heart instead of her head and the lion returned to her side! Pidge dove into the pilots chair, pulling up Green's weapons. Green wasn't responding the way they used to, but she could pilot again. 

"Keith says we need to leave," Pidge explained.

The green lion responded for her. It jumped towards the doors, firing at the weak points in the bay doors. The shield they'd slipped by earlier in complete camouflage went up in flames, sparks flying into space. 

So much for getting out of here unnoticed.

It didn't matter. Keith was the one in the field. He knew more about what was happening here than she did. She had to follow his orders so he could enact his plan. She sped away from the base as fast as she could. 

If Keith had Lance, that meant Coran and Allura would be tasked with getting Shiro out alive as soon as possible. Keith didn't say what was happening with Hunk. Either Hunk would leave with Keith and Lance or he'd be extracted one week from now by one of the blades.

Pidge glanced back at the ship. Green was cloaked, so the fleet was having a hard time finding her. She couldn't see the Red Lion through all of the fire. But the red lion would be behind her any second now.

Any second...

*** * * * ***

Pidge wandered in space for a few days. The entire team wasn't scheduled to be on the castle for another week or so. Shiro, Pidge, and Allura would be getting back to the castle's concealed location by transport in about a week. 

Pidge would fly the green lion around undetected for approximately a week and a half. Then, when Allura was on board and the ship was once again wormhole-capable, then Pidge would risk coming out of the darkness. 

Until then, she wouldn't be the reason the galra find the castle. 

"Hey, Green. How about we go to some nice jungles and bond?"

The green lion didn't seem really happy about that. 

Pidge gripped the controls tighter. "Whatever it is you're hiding from me, I'm going to find out."

Pidge sensed nervousness... maybe even shame. 

"Fine, then." Pidge pushed the lion forward. "I'll just fly by myself. And since you betrayed me, you're not going to stop me."

The green lion gave in. Pidge decided not to pry any harder. She was going to let the lion show her at her own pace. She was right.

The lion switched on a camera feed of the pilots chair. Pidge frowned. She didn't know the lions recorded them. It didn't surprise her. 

The cockpit was empty. Pidge watched as Lotor hesitantly stepped into view. 

"You'll have to forgive me," he whispered. "I've flown with Lance already... and I thought that would answer my questions but... it has not."

Pidge sat up. Lotor was standing by the pilot's chair now. It was weird to see him unattended in her lion.

"Who let him on board?" Pidge demanded, her voice high pitched. "Oh... _you did_."

Lotor ran his fingers along the controls, not switching any of them on. "Seeing Lance fly didn't explain anything—if anything, it confused me more. Why would such a powerful and intelligent creature require an organic... host?"

Lotor's head sudden'y jerked up, as if the lion were speaking to him. 

"Oh," Lotor said softly. "That's interesting."

Pidge leaned forward. She wanted to see what he would do. How could he gain her lion's trust with his evil intentions?

"Perhaps you could allow me to..." Lotor paused. "Understand how you've come to be. I have plans of my own and... Alfor was only a man, after all."

Pidge swallowed, her mouth suddenly felt dry. Was Lotor trying to build his own Voltron? 

"I've built my own ships... but they lack the element I need—the one thing you have that can end this war."

Pidge stood up. "You helped him? You're helping him fight for the galra?" 

The green lion remained silent. 

The green lion changed the view, showing scene after scene of Lotor inspecting the lion. Little by little, Lotor took measurements and ran tests. He sat in the pilot's chair for hours, doing nothing but sitting with his eyes closed. 

Finally, Lotor came on board the Lion with Lance in his arms. Lance looked horrible. He had bruises all over his body. His breath was wheezing terribly. Lance's eyes were clenched shut. He was probably unconscious. 

Lotor didn't have to open any doors, the green lion let him straight to the emergency healing pod. The minute Lotor reached the room, his entire demeanor changed. He'd rushed onto the Lion aggressively—without a single regard for Lance's pain. Now, he was delicate.

He gently laid Lance across the surface. He brushed Lance's hair out of his face. He leaned over Lance's body, tilting his head to the side. He kissed Lance. The kiss was gentle, straight out of a fairy-tale. 

It made Pidge uneasy. Looking at this, anyone would think Lotor legitimately cared for Lance.

Pidge knew that Lotor and Lance were technically together. Keith was able to get some details from the Red Lion. Coran was able to retrieve some footage of them together on the castle. And Lance told Hunk that Lotor had kissed him... This wasn't news.

But it was weird to see in person. Pidge always refused to watch the castle footage of them. Partially out of respect for Lance's boundaries, but mostly because she didn't want her opinion of Lotor to change. Lotor was evil and he took Lance against his will. A couple kisses in the hallway didn't change that. 

She was wrong. This changed everything.

*** * * * ***

It had been almost two weeks and no one had sent a signal for Pidge. She spent the time alone with her lion, which was sorely needed. In the time they had together, she tried to sort out how the Green Lion hadn't realized his soul was black on the inside. Turns out, it had nothing to do with whether he was good or not. 

The more Pidge thought about it, she realized the lions had no loyalty—no moral compass. they shared their power with the paladins. Their morals were the paladin's morals. How else could the black lion have picked Zarkon? Or the green lion, Lotor? 

The green lion was only 'good' because Pidge was fighting for good. But the green lion would happily work for Lotor, as long as that bond was there. 

It was a lot to think about. Pidge was glad she got the green lion again. 

Pidge was waiting eagerly for the Voltron team to contact her—to say they got back to the castle and had wormhole capabilities again. It occurred to her that maybe _they_ were trying to cease all contact so that they wouldn't blow _her_ cover. 

Pidge returned to the meeting spot as fast as she could so they wouldn't worry. When she got to the castle, the lights were still off.

 _Okay_ , Pidge thought. _So they're in low-power mode waiting for me._

It was going to be okay. Pidge would board the castle and they'd portal away. Keith and Lance would be reunited—and they'd never have to deal with Lotor ever again.

Pidge wondered how Lance was doing, with everything Lotor put him through. 

Pidge flew into her hanger and made her way to the castle. Every light was off.

"Hello?" She called. "Guys? Hunk?"

She ran around the castle. She saw no sign her friends were here. 

The bridge was empty. The rooms were empty. It had been two weeks since the mission and Pidge was the only one to make it back. 

And she was already a week late.

*** * * * ***

Now that Pidge was alone on the castle, she threw herself into her work. She tried as many low-power methods as she could to track the Red Lion, but she found no evidence that it had flown close to the castle anytime soon. Pidge couldn't extend the search without revealing herself. 

Why weren't Keith and Lance right behind her? And, if Hunk was left behind, why hadn't the blades extracted him and brought him here?

Maybe the blades were waiting until the castle came back online. 

"I'll just have to wait for Shiro's mission to succeed. Once Allura and the others return..." Pidge looked around the empty bridge. "We all wormhole out of here together."

*** * * * ***

Waiting was excruciating. Pidge never turned on any of the lights, so Keith was going to mock her for wandering around in the darkness. It was going to be great. 

But he had to get back first.

Until then, Pidge slept odd hours and scanned for radio signals. There were a few times where a galra patrol flew by—effectively scaring the daylight out of Pidge. She huddled in her lion for hours, waiting to fly out and fight to defend the castle—but Coran found a remarkable good spot to hide them. They were hidden in the center of a storm—undetectable by sensors, as long as they didn't switch on the castle before they were prepared to wormhole away. 

Pidge couldn't do anything but wait. After all, she couldn't reveal the castle's position. Based on the increasing number of galra forces in this quadrant, revealing the castle's location would guarantee it falls into Zarkon's hands. The increased number of galra forces in the area also led Pidge to believe that the others couldn't get back to the ship. Either they were captured, which is why there are so many galra in the area. Or, their attack was discovered (which it was) and the galra increased patrols—which was why the rest of the team couldn't get back.

They were supposed to arrive in a low-power transport. A transport like that wouldn't make it through this mess of soldiers.

Pidge risked building a scanner that would help her see the vicinity around her. Every frequency she detected was from the galra. She created purple icons for all of the galra forces because she was bored.

Her boredom was her worst enemy. Those purple icons increased around her in the coming week until she was completely surrounded. 

But no matter what, she couldn't use her lion or the castle to help her friends. 

"I do this anymore," she announced to the empty room, he voice shaky. 

She turned the scanner off.

*** * * * ***

Another week went by and nothing changed. Pidge had been out of contact with the Blades, the coalition, and Voltron for four weeks, now. 

The castle lights were still off. The castle was all tall gray walls and steel floors. Dust gathered in the corners without the routine maintenance. 

Pidge had to do something. If Voltron was dead, she would do the right thing. She would send them to the corners of the universe—just as Alfor had. That way, the Voltron Lions at least had a chance of flying for the good guys again. 

Maybe that's why Alfor did it to begin with. As Zarkon closed in on them, he realized that the lions would work for the galra. So he sent them away, where they had a chance. Not a perfect chance, but a chance. 

Pidge started to find it funny. She could lock the black lion in the castle from here. She could send the green, blue, and yellow lions to different corners of the universe while the red lion stayed trapped in galra custody.

_Sound familiar?_

Pidge got as far as the bridge. She stared at those healing pods for hours. Maybe, she should be the next Allura. Thousands of years from now some bright-eyed paladins would arrive on her doorstep to discover the secrets behind the lion they found. 

Matt would be dead. Her father would be dead; her mother, too. Hunk and Keith would be long gone—with Lance condemned to a lifetime of abuse and torment. 

"The time is now," Pidge declared, her voice echoing. "This area is swarming with galra. I have to send the lions away before it's too late..."

Pidge pressed her palm on the pad, sending the altean Pod back into the floor where it would remain.

"Whatever happens... _happens_ "

*** * * * ***

Pidge did the only reasonable thing, she put on a suit and locked herself in a storage container and ejected it from the castle.

Her suit would keep her warm and breathing. The box was fitted with heavy metal to keep her concealed. There were too many galra units in the area to take a ship; they'd be searching for the castle in a heartbeat. But she also couldn't sit in waiting anymore. 

"It'll be fine," Pidge whispered, conserving as much oxygen as possible. "This shipping container is concealed from scans... someone will pick me up to see what's inside... any minute now..."

Pidge drifted for a couple hours before getting picked up by a scavenger ship. Not galra per say, but definitely galra sponsored. The crew must've been some recently conquered territory that agreed to bear Zarkon's flag in exchange for work. They'd be very interested in the un-scanable cargo floating through a former war zone. 

When they opened the hatch, Pidge jumped out. He muscles were sore and cramped, but she was prepared for a fight.

" _What_ —"

She knocked him to the ground.

Then another, and another. Pidge didn't stop to see if they were secret coalition sympathizers... she couldn't risk it.

They were taken completely off-guard. Pidge knocked them out and ran to their hangar, stealing a ship with the galra emblem on the side. 

"Perfect," she cheered. 

She flew through open space un-hindered by all galra forces. She took her scanner and searched all frequencies in the area. She looped around, rationing her food supply to last her for days. On the second day of flying, officially the thirtieth day since their rescue mission, Pidge found something. 

"Not galra," she started to list. "Low-power transport, no weapon capabilities... wouldn't be perceived as a threat... wouldn't show up on galra scanners as import... would likely be left behind for scavenging team to fight..."

Pidge flew in the transports direction. As she got closer, she thought she recognized the design of the transport. It was painted a different color and had writing in a different language—but it was definitely a familiar ship. She'd seen Matt use transports of this exact model. 

"Could be a message from Kolivan," Pidge realized. "This could be them."

Thankfully, the scavenger ship Pidge stole had a tractor beam. It didn't have goo temperature control of communications equipment, but it had a pretty high-grade tractor beam. 

Pitch swept over the cargo ship and trapped it in her beam. The ship immediately retaliated. The back opened and debris flew out into the tractor beam, making it's way faster towards Pidge's ship than they would. 

"Oh, no!" Pidge shouted. 

Whoever was inside just sacrificed _all_ of their current oxygen supply to unload that debris. That was not a good sign. Pidge disabled the tractor beam and the ship dove right, avoiding the debris. One canister collided with another and erupted into flames—an explosion so powerful it would have ripped her ship apart. 

The ship was about to get away. Once they retracted their back gate, they would be able to set their engines to max and fly away at three-times the speed Pidge's current ship was capable off. They were already closing the gate.

"No!" Pidge groaned. "Don't leave..."

Pidge looked at her comms button. The communication equipment on this ship was sub-par and unlikely to work. Pidge didn't have a single second to spare. If she switched on the comms and altered the crew on board that she was a paladin, that would work perfectly fine. But if the comms didn't work, she would have no time to recover and the ship would be gone. Pidge couldn't risk it.

Pidge looked at her green paladin suit. "They'll recognize me," she comforted herself. 

Pidge sailed around to the front end and reengaged the beam. She opened the back gate of her ship. The ship below her got caught in the beam, but not for long. She pulled her own ship up while she was towing the other ship, balancing them in a perfect line. Pidge slammed her fist on the tractor beam to turn it off.

Pidge jumped out of her ship with a grunt, her bayard ready. She dove head-first towards the front of their ship. She landed on their front windshield with her bayard poised, ready to strike the glass. 

"Please recognize me, please, please..."

The gate closed on the small transport ship.

They didn't fly away. 

Slowly, the gate opened again. Pidge sighed in relief. The people inside the transport recognized her paladin suit.

"Please be you guys."

Pidge launched her bayard at the ship above them, and pulled herself back to the ship. When she reengaged the tractor beam, the small transport didn't fight.

Pidge stowed them in her small cargo bay and shut the gate. 

When her friends got off the transport, Pidge almost cried. 

"Pidge," Allura breathed, tears already splashing down her face.

Allura ran towards her, shrinking out of her galra form with every step. They collided in a brutal and desperate embrace. Pidge soon felt Coran and Shiro at hr side, awkwardly joining the reunion.

"We'd given up hope," Coran said. "Shiro got caught—we barely escaped... they've been swarming the area looking for us."

Pidge nodded, she knew all that.

"The castle?" Shiro asked. 

"Still hidden," Pidge reported. "But in an area highly populated with galra."

Shiro nodded, pulling her in for a reunion hug of their own. 

"How did you know it was us?" Allura asked.

Pidge buried her face into Shiro's poorly-kept space suit. "I didn't."

*** * * * ***

It took them three days to return to the castle. They kept getting rerouted. they had to hide a lot for safety. Pidge understood why they had been drifting for weeks. The galra were all over this quadrant and they weren't slowing down. No wonder the others were so thin, they'd been rationing for so long. 

"We must've really pissed them off," Shiro smirked. "Keith and Lance must've escaped!"

"Then why not return to the castle?" Allura asked.

"They couldn't. They'll be long gone by now." Pidge rubbed her hands together. "Its time to wormhole out of here."

"Pidge, we can't just leave them behind," Shiro pointed out.

"We won't be.The green lion, the red lion, and the transport ship were the only ones scheduled to make it. The red lion isn't here. There have been multiple escape pockets that Keith and Lance could have used to escape this quadrant. They aren't here."

Allura look at her, her lips pressed together. Pidge could tell she wanted to fight it. 

"Trust me," Pidge urged. "I've been monitoring the situation for weeks."

Shiro looked at Allura, clearly waiting for her input. Allura's shoulders slumped, but not in defeat.

"Okay, I can manage a wormhole."

Shiro smiled. "I would love to see the look on Zarkon's face when he realized we slipped out of this storm."

Pidge smiled at that, but her heart wasn't in it.

"I have the coordinates," she told Allura.

Allura logged them into the navigation system and paused. "This is galra territory."

Pidge nodded. "My brother has a monitoring outpost out there. He's scanning for galra activity and patterns, he'll know the second an altean wormhole arrives in the area. He'll tell Kolivan and Kolivan will get us reinforcements and an extraction team."

"But why not—"

Pidge cut her off. "Because we can't wormhole into coalition territory—and we can't go anywhere near the blades, either! We don't know the status of the war!"

"Okay," Shiro held his hands up. "Pidge, it's—"

"A lot can happen and thirty days and we'll likely be towing an army of these galra ships with us! Not to mention, if Zarkon found the castle and is tracking it... or if Lotor is tracking the green lion, that means they're watching us right now. We have to operate as if they can see us. Not to mention, Kolivan spent so much of his resources on this mission, if we exposed any of his outposts—"

" _Pidge_ ," Allura's voice was kind and soft. "We understand completely. We'll do anything you say."

Pidge snapped her mouth shut. She hadn't realized she was yelling. She didn't mean to lash out. "I've—I've been so alone..."

Shiro sat down by her, pulling her into a very welcome hug. 

*** * * * ***

Pidge was right. the instant the castle moved out of the storm, they were warmed with galra ships. Over a hundred ships and two cruisers had been hiding in the storm. They had no way to sense them. In fact, Pidge didn't even think they knew the castle was there. Their combat efforts were poorly coordinated. Zarkon was likely using the storm to harbor troops in case of an emergency. They were sitting less than three parsecs away from the castle.

They dragged the galra ships through the wormhole to more galra space, not too far from their previous location. Allura collapsed immediately. Shiro was tired, but he wasn't going to leave Pidge defenseless. The Black and Green Lion defended the castle until Matt and Kolivan sent reinforcements. 

Matt gave Pidge some more coordinates to wormhole to. Coran managed to get Allura awake and standing. The castle, the two lions, and all of the coalition and blade ships were able to escape to another system. Every galra ship that followed found their systems jammed by a massive EMP-type wave that Kolivan had prepared as a defense. Pidge couldn't wait to study it.

As soon as they landed on the planet, Kolivan arrived at the castle. He ordered Pidge, Shiro, Coran, and Allura get into the healing pods as soon as possible. He would debrief them afterwards. 

Pidge was the first out, she'd had access to more food than the others. She felt more refreshed than ever. Kolivan agreed to let her study the EMP-technology under blade supervision. 

Pidge was hard at work, trying to focus on the equations and not on the fact that Kolivan had told her nothing about Hunk, Lance, and Keith. After all, wouldn't that be the first thing you do? Offer relief to them after all they'd been through?

Someone was dead... Pidge knew it in her gut.

Later, Kolivan gathered Pidge, Shiro, Allura, and Coran onto the castle bridge.

"Hunk!" Pidge bolted for him, throwing her arms around him and holding him as tightly as she could. 

"Yes!" Hunk cheered, but he had no energy behind it. "Team Punk together again!"

He was trying to make her feel better. He was trying to distract her. 

"What's happened?" Pidge asked. "Who didn't make it?"

Kolivan's face was like stone. "Perhaps you should sit."

"You're making things worse," Coran advised him. "I would just say it. We'll react how we'll react." 

"We confirmed that Lance is still in Lotor's custody. We failed to get him out," Kolivan said. His eyes scanned them for a reaction before continuing. "We have received confirmation that Lance is still alive. We managed to get a blade on Lotor's new security team. Communication will be sparse. After the stunt we pulled, Lotor is on guard. He's absolutely furious. And somehow... even Zarkon has lashed out to punish us for this. That can only mean one thing: Lotor is seeking Lance's Consent."

"No," Coran gasped. "He can't... that's not how..."

"We are aware," Kolivan said. "But it does seam that the galra are abiding by the laws of Consent is some of it's forms—one of them being family honor. Any other action we take to retrieve Lance will likely be met with force on all sides. Regardless of his fight with Lotor, Zarkon is honor-bound to defend Lance."

Pidge's mouth dropped open. "What is Consent?"

"It the way the galra ensure the rights of their citizens, while also protecting the royal line," Allura explained. "It allows a regular citizen the opportunity to refuse all proposals and remain detached from the royal line for as long as they want—sometimes for their whole lives. It ensures that no citizen feels forced or threaten to marry someone because of their military or political power. It protects them and their families."

"But Lotor kidnapped Lance," Pidge pointed out.

"Yes," Allura growled. "So they've already broken the law, but there is one law I know they will follow. Once given—Consent cannot be revoked."

"What does that mean?" Hunk asked. 

Coran took over from there. "It means you can never leave the royal line, no matter what. You can never sever your ties to the running house. You children—even children you have with regular citizens will be considered royals. By giving your Consent, you sign a contract for the rest of your existence."

Pidge swallowed. "Are you saying... You said Zarkon was _honor-bound_ —"

"Exactly," Kolivan confirmed. "Even though it does not seem Lance had given his Consent to Lotor, it appears the galra are trying to force him to. They are already defending him with more resources than necessary. This could lead Zarkon to kill Lance, should he refuse for too long."

"And if he doesn't refuse?" Hunk wondered. "If he gives his Consent?"

"Then retrieving Lance will be impossible," Kolivan said. "Lance will be protected as a new member of the royal line. All resources will be routed to protecting him—and hiding him—regardless of if Zarkon likes him or not."

"How did this happen?" Allura demanded. "Why would Zarkon ever allow a Paladin into his house? How do we know he hasn't already assassinated Lance?"

"The red lion," Pidge realized. "Lotor can pilot the green lion. Lance can pilot the red lion. Zarkon must have hopes of retrieving the black lion again. He's building his way towards Voltron."

"That is very concerning," Kolivan remarked. 

"It'll never work!" Hunk said. "Lance will never fly for Zarkon."

"Don't be so sure," Coran whispered. "Remember what I said about... how we might have to convince Lance to come with us? I don't think Lance can hold out forever. He's young and... If Lotor has Zarkon's support, they have Haggar and all of her magic on their side."

Pidge clutched Hunk's arm. 

"If we don't get him out, and soon..." Coran let them picture the rest.

Allura shook her head. "This is disgusting. The laws of Consent protect citizens. They have a right to leave—"

"I think we can safely assume that Zarkon has no respect for galran culture as it was," Kolivan started. 

Before he could continued, Pidge cut him off. "Will everyone stop talking about Consent?! Zarkon is evil: we knew that. Zarkon wants Voltron: we knew that, too. Now stop stalling and tell us _where the hell is Keith_?"

Kolivan's back straightened. "We have no intel on Keith or the red lion."

"None at all?" Pidge's voice was small. 

"None," Kolivan continued. "We can assumed he kept the red lion for Lance. So wherever he is keeping the Lion, it is likely he is keeping Keith. If Keith were dead—I believe we would know by now. But as long as we can't find information on the red lion, there is hope that Keith is simply out of reach."

They continued to discuss around her. Pidge let it wash over her ears, not internalizing any of it. Nothing they had to say would change the truth. None of their speculation would change the outcome of what Zarkon was going to do—what he _had_ to do.

"Keith was in love with Lance," Pidge said loudly. 

They all fell silent, he meaning finally making sense to them. 

If Zarkon was honor-bound to defend Lance... If Lotor wanted his Consent so badly, there was a variable that had to be removed to make room. 

*** * * * ***

Pidge had been working alone a lot over the past few months. Kolivan let them stay in his little paradise for as long as he could, but he eventually had to get them somewhere else. 

The team was trying to piece together the coalition but they were a lion down. Moral was low.

Allura was disgusted and insulted and distraught. Coran was burying himself in old psychology books for some reason—likely hoping for the day they got Lance back. Apparently, before he was a mechanic of ships he was 'a mechanic of the mind'. It made his past even more of a mystery than before. Shiro was missing all the time. He claimed frequent headaches, but Pidge suspected he was wallowing in guilt. None of them knew how Lotor got away that day—least of all him. And Hunk... Hunk was annoying her.

It wasn't his fault. He was being so emotional about it all that she couldn't focus on her work. She suspected he was acting on Coran or Shiro's orders—trying to get her to work less and talk about her _feelings_.

Hunk walked into her work zone. He didn't have food with him, which meant he was here to talk.

"I don't need you right now, Hunk." Pidge snapped.

Hunk's eyes were hurt, but he didn't run away. Hunk had a habit of refusing to back down when his friends needed him. It was one of the reasons he and Keith were so close. No one could push Hunk away—he saw through all of that. 

"I just mean," Pidge grunted. "You're not handling _all this_ very well and I need to focus."

"Well," Hunk said. "Maybe I would be handling this a lot better if it weren't for, you know, Keith."

Pidge nodded, deciding to let him steer the conversation away from her hurtful comments. "Right. _Keith_."

Keith who was probably dead. They'd lost Lance before and predicted they might not get him back... losing Keith wasn't a part of the deal. 

"Do you think they're together?" Hunk asked. 

If Pidge was deciphering his tone correctly, and she was, he was asking out of hope. 

Pidge looked away. She found it incredibly unlikely that Lotor would allow Lance and Keith to be together, in any way. From what they could tell, Lotor was obsessed with Lance. 

In all likelihood, Lotor used Keith as a weapon against Lance to get him to behave. 

And he likely killed him very early in Lance's captivity. 

Pidge turned back to Hunk. "Given that we have absolutely no information of Lotor and Lance's whereabouts—when six months ago we were able to track Lance's location to Zarkon's ship... Combined with the fact that we have no information on Keith's location indicates that Lotor has been keeping them in the same place."

Hunk visibly relaxed. 

Pidge returned to her work, neither of them speaking again. Pidge didn't want to ruin anything. 

But Hunk was persistent. He was even more determined to offer her company now than he'd ever been. 

"So how are things going with the green lion?"

Pidge pushed her computer away. 

"Oh," Hunk realized. "That bad?"

"No, not bad," Pidge sighed. "Just..."

When Pidge met Hunk's eyes, she didn't know how to explain it. How would a big softy like Hunk handle the truth?

"Did you know the lion's aren't good?"

Hunk's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? Of course they're _good_ ," he laughed. "It's _Voltron_."

Pidge shook her head. "Think about it, Voltron is only good in legends because it disappeared thousands of years ago... when you think of it, Voltron isn't some great powerful lion—and as paladins... well, it's not like we're carrying on some grand legacy."

"What are you talking about Pidge, the paladins who came before us—"

"Were just paladins," Pidge determined. "They were just live us. Five people who fought for good. But there isn't a rich an ancient history of paladin after paladin after paladin... when we found Allura and Coran, they made it sound like we were part of this grand symbol, but has barely existed for, what, a _decade_?"

Pidge shook her head, staring at her hands. 

"Well, I guess that's true," Hunk admitted. "But that doesn't mean Voltron doesn't do good."

"Yes it does," Pidge mumbled. 

"Pidge... what's going on?"

"Think about it," Pidge begged. " _Voltron_ doesn't do good. _We_ do good; we _are_ Voltron. Voltron is good _because_ of us... and the paladins who came before us. The Black Lion chose Zarkon—the Green Lion chose Lotor."

Hunk frowned. He leaned away slowly, putting the puzzle together. "Shiro almost lost his hold on the Black Lion within the first year. This was after Zarkon had been ruling for ten thousand years, so... solid evil."

"Exactly."

"And the Green Lion chose Lotor—"

Pidge flinched, the look on Lance's face and the sound of his cries taking over her senses.

"Are you okay?" Hunk put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Fine, I just don't think I can ever _unsee_..." she shivered. 

Hunk squeezed comfortingly. "Maybe I can watch the recording, too."

Pidge grimaced. "Why would you want to do that?"

"So you won't feel alone?" Hunk sounded hurt.

"I appreciate the offer, hunk. But... I don't want you to live with that. And it feels like an invasion of Lance's privacy."

Hunk nodded. "That's fine, too. Whatever you need."

Pidge stared at the floor. "You know, I didn't even watch the whole recording. I couldn't."

"I doubt I could watch the whole thing either," Hunk said. "But I'm sure whatever you saw was horrible enough."

Pidge nodded. "Lance was... he was _begging_ him. He begged Lotor to let him go and... he offered to lie—to us. Lance said he would lie to us and let Lotor do whatever he wanted to him, as long as he took him home."

Hunk rubbed her back.

"He was so scared, Hunk," Pidge trembled. "And then Lotor slapped him and he didn't... he looked so _hurt_."

Pidge leaned into Hunk's embrace.

"That's how I know the Voltron Lion's aren't good. They don't understand things the way we do. They don't understand the world. They're learning the difference between right and wrong, just like children."

"So we can teach them to be good?"

Pidge shrugged. "Maybe they can learn what's right and what's not... but probably not. Keith said the Red Lion was really protective of Lotor. Even after Keith told the lion that Lotor kidnapped Lance, he said it was like the Lion trusted Lotor. Not because the lion understood what is right and wrong—but because the Red Lion experienced _Lance's_ emotions towards Lotor. And it's the same with Green. My lion felt Lotor's devotion towards Lance—his obsession. So, because Lotor is convinced what he is doing is right... The lion thinks it must be right."

Hunk pressed his lips into a thin line. "So they'll just change their loyalties to the next person they bond with?"

"I guess."

"that's scary."

"It's hopeless."

Hunk shook his head. "It's not. Nothing is hopeless. We just have to do our best to be good people—to be good paladins. We won't let the lions fall into the wrong hands." 

*** * * * ***

Pidge remembered what it felt like to have Matt return from the mission on the base. He returned with news that their father wasn't there. She wondered if he was ever there. 

Did Lotor lie to them about the prison? Did he wait for Sam Holt to be transferred? Maybe he was never there at all. Maybe Lotor lied to escape the prison. 

First, Lance lied to the Paladins. Lance said that Lotor agreed to give up the location of the prison. Then, when Shiro and Allura went down there, he was forced to tell them about it. So it was likely that her father was there, but he didn't want to give up Sam Holt. 

Hunk said that Lotor kissed him the day he was set free. So didn't that mean that Lotor wanted to give up the prison to be set free? 

None of it made any sense. 

*** * * * ***

Pidge continued to fly, testing the new stabilizers with glee. The Green Lion was always happy to try out new tech. If Green liked it enough, she would absorb the tech into her infrastructure. 

Pidge had been feeling pretty connected to her lion lately, despite her suspicions that the lions weren't capable of retaining their own moral compasses. That's why the Green lion severing their connection caught her off guard. It felt like someone had reached into her mind and ripped out all her wiring. The Green Lion roared. Pidge suddenly felt the largest swell of anger and hatred from her lion. 

"Whoa, hey," Pidge stopped moving. "Okay, cancelling the stabilizers."

Their minds merged into one again. Pidge felt the sensations and intent of her lion. It was like they'd never been driven apart. Pidge felt a great number of emotions: shame, regret, fear... and resolve. 

The Green Lion took over Pidge's ears. She heard a voice crying out from a distance. She could've sworn it was coming from inside the lion, but that wasn't possible. 

Pidge closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of someone's panicked breathing.

 _No, stop!_ She heard Lance shout. 

She heard the harsh sound of skin on skin. Lotor must've hit Lance. Lance yelped and went quiet again. 

_Stop_ , Lance begged. _We can do this later, on the castle._

 _Why wait?_ Lotor taunted. _I've waited so long already._

 _Lotor, I'm not ready,_ Lance was crying now. _I want you. I want you, too. At home, please?_

 _Oh, Lance, we_ are _going home._

The sounds stopped. Pidge sat upright in her chair. She understood what the green lion was saying. The lion's could learn, they did have their own minds, and the green lion was choosing to be good. That's why Green was shutting Lotor out, for good. 

He wouldn't sense them coming. 

"Guys!" Pidge panicked. "Voltron, come in! Come in, Voltron! Allura!"

"Pidge!" Coran's terrified voice responded. "Are you in danger?"

"I feel him," Pidge said. "The green lion has found Lotor. Green can sense him close by."

Coran's side went deadly silent.

"He's close," Pidge gasped. 

"You need to be careful, Pidge," Shiro urged. "The green lion still has a connection to Lotor so—"

"Not anymore," Pidge growled. "So start tracking me. Because the green lion and I are moving closer."

"... _understood_."

"We're going to get Lance _back_."


	17. Rebel

**Lance**

* * *

Lance wasn't an idiot. He knew there was a reason that Lotor took him to all of these aquatic planets. He knew Lotor was trying to convince him to give his Consent.

Did Lotor really think reminding him of home would do that? 

After Lotor left him alone in the library, Lance did some research on Consent. It wasn't nearly as scary as Lotor has made it out to be. 

Lotor had been so tense and nervous, Lance was afraid he was going to be hurt. He almost thought Consent was going to some weird torture-ritual. 

The idea of Consent was really sweet. To protect non-royal citizens, there was this whole web of laws to ensure they would never be forced into marriage. For centuries, the galra royals just forced commoners into marriage without a say—just like humans used to. Consent was the layer of protection to prevent that from every happening again. 

But Consent could not be revoked. 

Once Consent was given, the giver's entire live belonged to the throne. Lance found multiple instances in galra history where the entire genetic royal line was wiped out, but someone who gave their Consent still lived on. They and their children continued the family line. One time, a young galran girl gave her Consent, then decided she didn't want to be a princess. So she packed her things to a different planet and had a child with another man. That child became the next emperor.

That means Lance would be royal. He would be a full-blooded galran prince. If Zarkon died, Lotor would take the throne and he would be Prince-Consort. If Lotor ever died, got forbid, Lance would be next in line for the throne. 

It wasn't like in human culture, where the spouse is passed up for the child or the long-lost cousin. Lance would have seniority.

His mother and father, his brothers and sisters, his nieces and nephews... his _children_ —they would all be royal. If Lance died, his eldest sister Rachel would be sought out to rule. 

Lance tried to picture Rachel on her porch one day, when a galra cruiser lowers to earth. She would have to abdicate from a throne she didn't even know about. That's assuming the galra let her. The more Lance read about Consent, the more he realized the modern galra had it a little off. Prince's could date whoever they wanted, but every single person they met who wasn't royal staff or related to them was protected under the laws of Consent. 

That meant Lance. Lance should have "the freedom to move to and from the castle unhindered and without objection—save their actions be suspect to cause harm to the empire."

Lance's shoulders slumped. What a loophole. 

_Prince Lotor,_ the galran would say. _The defendant claims he was held against his will for over six months._

_Well, he was a former paladin of Voltron, you see, So we had reason to suspect his actions would cause harm to the empire._

_Oh, well in_ that _case, case dismissed._

Lance groaned, hitting his forehead on the railing. Lotor's rubbed his back. 

"Want to talk about it?" he asked. 

Lance shook his head, keeping it buried in his arms. This was a truly beautiful planet. If you ignored the fact that the galra likely stole it and slaughtered the natives... it was very beautiful. But Lance was too selfish to consider the planet's history. He was too wrapped up in what Lotor asked him. 

Lance decided to tell him that. If he didn't admit to something, Lotor was going to keep trying to figure it out. And Lance didn't want to talk about Consent again. Not for a long, long time. 

Lance sighed, spreading his arms for a hug. Lotor obliged. 

"I just can't get that conversation out of my head," he admitted.

If Lotor was upset about that, Lance couldn't tell. He didn't tense up like he usually did when he was mad. 

"What do you need from me?"

Lance paused. He hadn't expected Lotor to say that. He was expecting a sarcastic remark or a long-speech about trust and communication. 

"Stop spoiling me," Lance said. "It's getting annoying."

Lotor tensed. Then he laughed. "Fine. Hot deserts from now on."

"I appreciate it."

They broke apart. Somehow, that helped Lance get his mind off things. Lance as able to walk with Lotor along the paths and see some of the most beautiful underwater caverns he'd ever seen in his life.

"Lotor?" Lance asked, already smiling. 

Lotor pressed his lips together, like he knew Lance was going to make fun of him.

" _Lance_."

"Do you think I live underwater?"

Lotor paused for a very, very long time. "No."

Lance burst out laughing. 

"I really didn't! I swear!"

Lance gestured around him. 

"Well, _excuse me_ for thinking you'd like to see what _under_ all the water..."

"No, no," Lance agreed. "It's very cool. But we should... you should take me to a beach. You should let me show you a beach."

"A hot one?"

Lance nodded. 

Lotor knew a lot of little things about Lance. But Lance didn't remember telling him some of the details he used against him. 

"How much to you know about my home world?"

"Nothing."

Lance raised an eyebrow. " _Lotor_."

"I don't know it's name or where it is. I don't know anything but..." Lotor looked him in the eye. "If I had to guess, it's a little planet. It's gravity isn't as strong as Daibazaal's was. It's covered in water. It's really hot and warm, except... you only have one sun, which means it also gets very cold in some places. "

Lance's jaw dropped. 

"I take it I'm right."

"How did you know it only has one sun?"

Lotor smiled. "The color of the sky you put up in the library."

Lance palmed his face. "But you _didn't_ know it was covered in water... you just know I _live_ by water."

Lotor pursed his lips. "I know you come from a humble background... planets with smaller pockets of water either have water blocked off as a resource or it's used for the rich."

Lance put his hands on his hips. "I always assumed that I was going to fall for someone dumber than I am."

"Why?" Lotor's brow furrowed. "Do you think you aren't worthy of someone of my—"

"No, none of that." Lance took a moment to really think about it. "maybe it's because I have to be good at something. I'm not a good pilot or a good student... I'm not attractive or smart, but I'm scrappy. I'm clever enough to be smart to someone," Lance decided. "I guess I thought I would be with someone who could admire me."

Lotor grabbed Lance's arms. "I take issue with so many things you just said."

Lance rolled his eyes. Could Lotor tone down the unending devotion for, like, two seconds? It used to be so nice to hear Lotor tell him he admired him and found him beautiful. Lance even had a moment where he thought _I do deserve to hear those things, all the time_. But that part of him was dead now.

Lotor killed it.

"Firstly," Lotor started. "You are a _spectacular_ pilot. I have never seen anyone study as hard as you. You don't even have a teacher and you are so dedicated. You are incredibly attractive, and not just to me. I have to stop myself from killing half the guards and servants. And you are smart. I have watched you explain the science of nebula's and galaxies just by looking at them through a window—"

"Well that's just—"

"Tell me where I'm from."

Lance stopped. There was no way he could explain Lotor's life to him the way he Lance's. Anything he got wrong would just make him look like an idiot. 

"You were born either just after, or just before Daibazaal was destroyed. Zarkon hasn't had any kids since he O.D.'d on quintessence... so it was before he went bonkers and destroyed Altea." Lance smacked himself mentally. "But you're half altean and the only other alteans I know are Coran and Allura so... I could've figured that out much easier."

"No," Lotor whispered in awe. "Keep going."

Lance thought for a minute. He'd been studying Lotor since the moment he arrived on the castle. he knew this man, he just had to put it all together. 

"There are no alteans left... just you. And I find it impossible that they just huddled together on Altea and died. They would have had outposts or ships. So Zarkon hunted the alteans down and killed them—and something like that would take years. So you grew up, half altean, watching your father kill alteans. So you decided where you're from—and it wasn't where you grew up."

Lotor was staring at him, his eyes unbearable soft and impressed. 

"You're from Altea."

Lotor took a deep breath. He licked his lips. "Can I?"

Lance blushed. He nodded and stepped forward without giving it a second thought. When had Lance become so desperate to please Lotor? When had he stopped thinking about how scared he was every day?

Lance didn't remember. 

Lotor kissed him, both hands on his face. Lance couldn't lean into it. Lotor's body was so tense and passionate he could barely move under his grip. Lance let Lotor pull him along. Lance felt Lotor gesture out with his arm as they danced into a smaller tunnel. Lance heard the guards pacing away, but they wouldn't leave.

The two of them stayed together for a while. Lance finally broke free and pointed up. Lotor was slow to take hi meaning, but he did. 

Lotor escorted Lance back to the ship, his arm tight around Lance's waist.

*** * * * ***

Lance felt the tension increase in his muscles. The sensation spread like a fire over his body, touching every part of his skin down to his bones. Lance reached out blindly, clutching onto Lotor as hard as he could. In return, Lotor grabbed Lance's hips, moving their bodies firmly against each other. 

"Lo—Lotor—" Lance stuttered.

Something in his body changed. It no longer felt good. He suddenly felt like he wasn't a part of himself anymore. No matter how hard Lance tried to snap back into focus. 

Lotor's hands were on him, so tender and gentle. His movements were urgent. Lotor was trying so hard to make everything feel good. He wanted to please Lance. 

And here Lance was, moaning his name and taking it. 

"Lotor, stop!" Lance cried. 

_I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this..._

Lotor kept going, his expression etching into concern. "It's okay Lance," Lotor moaned. "We don't have to stop after. Enjoy yourself, you've... you've earned it."

 _You've earned it._ Lance felt like he was going to throw up. 

Lance realized he was moving in time with Lotor. He froze in horror. He grew limp, letting himself fall. Lotor grabbed onto him and flipped him over, pinning him to the mattress. 

That felt better—it was much easier on Lance's mind. Lance would rather be a prisoner—someone Lotor had to hold down and hurt to get his own pleasure. He didn't want anything from Lotor. He didn't want it to feel good. He didn't want these nice clothes or those beautiful showers. He didn't want to go on romantic dates to beautiful worlds. 

This was better, wasn't it? This was what Lance wanted. 

So why did he still feel wrong? Why did he feel like this was just as horrible? The truth struck Lance light lightning. Lotor was still doing this for him. Lotor knew Lance was uncomfortable with how complacent he was—Lotor spent weeks playing with Lance like a prisoner just to prove it. Lance had heavy restraints on his ankles for that very reason. 

Even through Lotor was holding him down, he was still being kind. 

"Lotor?" Lance begged with a shaky voice. "Please, stop. I want to be done, just—"

Lotor slapped him. Not hard—not punishingly, even. He pushed Lance harder, his movements growing rougher. Still, Lance's body started to respond. He knew this—they'd done this too many times for Lance to count. 

"Don't touch me—" Lance started to yell. 

Lotor's hand came down and covered his mouth. He kept a tight seal over Lance's face. Lance started to struggle for real. He needed Lotor to hear him—to listen to him. He couldn't just do this to Lance anymore. Weren't things different now? Shouldn't he trust him?

That was the problem. Lotor thought he was doing something nice for Lance, but it was hurting him. Just like on the castle, when they used to train together—Lance asked to be trained, but Lotor took it too far and hurt him too much. Everything Lotor was doing was Lance's fault. 

But if Lotor would just _listen_ for two seconds he would know that Lance was serious. 

When it was over, Lance laid there in shock. His whole body felt limp. Lotor rolled onto the bed and laid down next to him, breathing heavily and looking at the ceiling. Lance was shaking, his whole body humming with rage and pain. 

Lotor reached out, trying to pull Lance in—to comfort him, no doubt. 

Lance smacked his hand away. He sat up, holding the sheets close to his body. 

"Lance," Lotor sighed, his voice dripping with irritation and spite. "I thought we were over this."

"Me too."

"So come back to bed." 

" _No_ ," Lance growled, surprised by the strength in his voice. 

Lotor raised his eyebrows. he's gone deadly still. "No?"

Lance nodded. "I said no. We're _done_ ," Lance snapped. "We're not doing this anymore."

Lotor sat up. His muscles were clenched, like his entire body was ready to fight. " _Excuse me_?" He yelled. 

"You heard me," Lance said.

Lotor bolted up from the bed. He crossed the room and started to dress himself. He had his pants on and was strapping his boots on when Lance stood.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lotor demanded. 

"To get my clothes," Lance shouted. "What do you think?"

"No," Lotor growled. "Hell, no. Stay right there."

Lance obeyed. He stayed sitting on the edge of the bed and kept the covers drawn over his nude body. 

Lotor pulled on his shirt, standing in front of Lance with his arms crossed. 

"We're _done_?" He demanded. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I don't want to do this anymore."

"Do what?" Lotor sneered. "Sleep with me? Kiss me?"

Lance looked at the floor, his jaw trembling. 

"Be with me?"

Lance sobbed, not knowing what to do now. How was he supposed to do this? Lance always said thing he regretted, when he freaked out, but this was different. This was world-ending. 

"LOOK AT ME!"

Lance snapped his head up, looking at Lotor with tears in his eyes. His whole body was trembling and he couldn't... he couldn't even think anymore!

"I'm sorry." Lance shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I don't know why I said it. I'm sorry—" 

Lotor slapped him. Lance yelped, holding his burning face. 

"I'm so sorry..." Lance promised. "I just... I don't know! Please, Lotor—" 

Lotor grabbed Lance's hair, jerking him closer until his face was close to Lotor's. Lance gasped, his whole body aching. His neck hurt and Lotor's grip on his hair was too strong. 

"S—Stop—ah!" 

Lotor jerked Lance again, punishing him for every word he said.

"Not a word," Lotor seethed. "Not another word."

"Please—"

" _What did I just say_?!"

"I'm sorry!"

" _LANCE_!" Lotor roared. 

Lance snapped his mouth shut. If Lotor would listen for just a moment, everything would be okay. 

"Don't do it," Lotor ordered. "I can see you thinking, and I will not hesitate—" Lotor brought Lance closer to his face. "Make no mistake about that."

"Lotor—"

Lotor tightened his grip on Lance's hair and slung him off the bed. Lance fell to the floor, his head hurting and his body screaming in pain. It was all just too much. Lotor kicked him in the ribs, his steel boots colliding with Lance's exposed body. 

Lance wheezed, his lungs screaming for air. Lotor disappeared from his view and Lance was too terrified to move. Finally, Lotor handed him a strip of cloth. 

"Tie this over your eyes."

Lance reached out, accepting the cloth and holding it gingerly between his finger's. 

_Tie this,_ Lotor's voice echoed in his brain. _Drink this. Stop talking. Kiss me. Enough fighting. Yield to me... Tie this over your eyes._

Lance snarled, throwing the fabric down on the ground. " _Do it yourself_." 

Lotor paced around him, kneeling in front of him. He stared at Lance. He didn't say anything. He was giving Lance a chance to explain himself. He expected him to take it back. Lotor thought he could intimidate Lance into putting it on.

But Lotor was already going to punish him for this. What did Lance have to lose?

Lance glared at him, not backing down. Lotor's face twitched—likely from anger or shock. Lotor raised his hand. His whole arm was trembling. He touched the skin underneath Lance's chin with his fingertips. Except he couldn't raise Lance's head like he always did. Lance was already looking right at him. Lotor's hand pulled away slowly, like Lotor didn't know what to do next. 

They'd done this dance so many times before. Lance had the routine memorized. Lotor wasn't going to get to him that easily.

Lance smirked.

Lotor's arm sprang forward. Lance saw it coming from a mile away. Lotor was so tense and angry, Lance knew he was going to lash out. Lance moved his head to the right. Lotor's fist didn't even graze him.

Lance couldn't stop himself. He busted out laughing. All of the stress and anger and heartbreak of the past few most suddenly seemed worth it for that one victory. It took him six months but Lance finally got a win. It was little and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but Lotor would never forget. _Never_.

Lance wasn't able to stop the next hit—or even the next one. He lost count of how many times Lotor struck him. He was bleeding from his teeth and nose. The skin on his cheek had broken open for sure. His ribs screamed and his stomach was in agony. Lance couldn't name a single part of him that wasn't in excruciating pain. He just couldn't stop laughing.

Lotor left him on the floor. Lance was curled in on himself, his face pressed into the floor. He was bleeding and crying. His abs hurt from laughing. Lance took deep breaths to get himself under control. With each breath he took, Lance felt himself come down from his high.

Through his bloody-haze, he saw Lotor's steel-tipped boots. Lotor was back. But what was he going to do? Beat Lance more? He'd take Lance to the hospital and put him to sleep. Then Lance would wake up and they wouldn't talk about it until it happened again. 

Lotor grabbed Lance's face, wiping his mouth clean of the blood. Lance scoffed. Lotor was going to put him back together, now?

Once his mouth was clean of the blood, Lotor pulled out a smooth metal plate. Lance didn't realize was he was looking at until it was too late. Lotor sealed the gag over his face, covering from the bridge of his nose to his chin. 

_Wait_ , Lance said the words, but he couldn't hear them. _You said you destroyed this._

Lance started to breath heavily. He felt his chest rising and he felt the air surge through his lungs but he heard nothing. 

_Lotor take it off._

It was pointless. There was nothing Lance could do now. Lotor would never hear him. No matter how much pain he was in, Lotor wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't hear him scream. He wouldn't hear him cry. 

_I hate you!_ Lance yelled, so angry he felt hot tears glide down his face. _I hate you! You're a coward!_

Lotor grabbed Lance and yanked him up, throwing him on the bed. Lance screamed his throat raw, the impact shooting through every fresh wound. Lotor grabbed the blindfold off the ground. He pushed Lance's face into the bed, grabbing his arms and manhandling them together. He tied the thin strip of cloth so tightly around his wrists Lance felt his skin burning. 

_You ruined my life,_ Lance sobbed. 

Lotor grabbed him by his attached wrists and led him to the other side of the room. Lance's vision was spotty. He limped as best he could but Lotor wasn't interested in if he could walk. 

Lance threw his head up and watched Lotor withdraw the curtains on the doors attached to the room. 

_No, Lotor!_ Lance jerked himself back.

Lotor let him fall to the floor. He watched, almost bored, as Lance scurried away with his hands bound. 

_You can't,_ Lance begged. _You promised—never again. Please listen to me, just listen—_

Lotor grabbed Lance, jerking him up and pulling him towards the open doors. Lance clenched his eyes shut, as if that would stop everything. 

_I'll give you whatever you want!_ Lance pleaded. _I'll give you my Consent! My lion—anything! Can you hear me?_

Lotor strapped him down. Thick metal cuffs covered his ankles and wrists.

 _I'll give you my Consent,_ Lance swore.

Lotor leaned down to his ear. When he spoke, his tone was seething. "Now, I'm going to say this slowly, so you can understand... I'm beating this rebellion out of you—for good."

Lance shook his head, sobbing in total silence.

"And when I'm done," Lotor continued. "We're going to be over this. Understand?"

Lance shook his head. He hit his head against the metal slab underneath him. Lotor grabbed his hair and strapped him down by his forehead—making sure he would stay awake though everything. 


	18. Bed Rest

**Lance**

* * *

The air around him was hot and humid. It was one of those soft humid days, where the moist air glazed your skin _just so_. Lance loved days like these. He would love to spend one more day in the calming heat—real heat. The gentle wind brushed the skin on his face. Lance kept his eyelids closed, enjoying the illusion of the sun on his face. 

"Lance?" Lotor whispered through his peaceful haze. 

Lance grunted. 

"Where are you right now?" he asked. 

_At home,_ Lance thought. _Away from you._

Lance opened his eyes. The sky above him was a cold, pale blue. It was so pale it was almost gray. The floor beneath him felt like hard metal, not the soft cushion of sand. The fake wind was predictable. 

Lotor meant well. He transformed the wave room in the library to hold the climate of Lance's home, but the sky was wrong. On a day like this, the sky would be a much richer shade of blue. Lance wasn't going to tell Lotor that. He wanted to hold onto this little piece of himself for as long as he could. He didn't want Lotor to feel ownership over Lance's old life; over his home planet. As long as the sky above him was a bitter, cold blue, Lance knew there was a piece of him out there Lotor would never own. 

Lance didn't answer Lotor's question. He didn't even look at him. 

"Lance..." Lotor whispered. Lance felt Lotor's hand on his waist. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Lance stared blankly at the ceiling—at the fake sky. Lance couldn't talk to Lotor. He was realizing that now. He would have to be more careful what he said around Lotor from now on. Lance would never be free of this torture, but he could ease his pain. He was going to be navigating Lotor's moods and accusations for the rest of his life. In a way. Lotor got what he wanted—Lance would behave from now on. But Lance knew he didn't get it the way he wanted. Lotor wanted Lance to love him—to be as obsessed with Lotor as Lotor was with him. 

Soft lips grazed the skin on Lance's arm. Lotor touched firm, lengthy kisses to his arm. "I'm here for you," he whispered. "Whenever you need me."

Lance closed his eyes. Now that the sky was gone, he pictured himself back home; away from the galra and away from Lotor. He felt Lotor's finger's combing through his hair, firmly massaging his scalp.

Lance let him. He decided not to be offended by Lotor's inconsiderate intrusion and accept it as a part of his fantasy. Lance didn't know if it was his mother or father—maybe a lover. Maybe he and Lotor didn't have all of this messy history. Then again, maybe Lotor never became a part of his life. Maybe Lance got the chance to be with someone else.

Someone safer. 

Lotor's lips were soft on Lance's ear. His breath was hot. He whispered his name. When Lance didn't respond, he said it again and again. 

Lance cautiously pried his eyes open. 

"You fell asleep, sweet paladin," Lotor kissed his eyelid. 

"That's fine," Lance hummed in a daze. 

" _No_ ," Lotor whispered kindly. "You've been sleeping too much lately. You have to keep regular hours."

"I don't care about regular hours," Lance mumbled. "Come back to bed."

"We're in the library," Lotor pointed out. "I can carry you, but I'd be more comfortable if you walked."

Lance folded his arms and stretched them over his head. It felt really, really good to stretch his muscled until he felt a sharp pinch in his lungs. Lance yelped, tucking his arms back into his body. Lotor's brows furrow

"Too late," Lance tried to sooth Lotor's worries. "You shouldn't have told me you were gonna carry me back."

"Of course—" Lotor picked Lance up in his arms. "How foolish of me."

Lance let his head roll against Lotor's chest. Lance felt his eyes close while Lotor carried him out. He didn't remember taking the elevator or any other part of the journey. He felt Lotor's hands leaving him against the cool sheets in Lotor's bedroom. Lance hadn't been to his own in days—not since he got his injuries. 

Lotor pulled up a chair and sat dutifully by Lance's bedside. 

"Don't you have some super-important galra job to do?" Lance asked, his annoyance successfully passed of as exhaustion. 

"I'm doing it," Lotor smiled. "I'm caring for the future prince. The second in line to the throne."

Lance looked away. _Not yet,_ he thought. _I haven't given you my Consent._

"Speaking of," Lotor sighed. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about." 

It was as if Lotor had struck Lance as hard as he possibly could. The last time Lotor wanted to talk to him, things had never been the same. How was Lance supposed to deal with another piece of life-changing information while he was on bed rest? Lance couldn't even pretend to defend himself, much less take Lotor's wrath. 

"No, no, it's nothing bad," Lotor promised. "It's good. It's—hopeful."

"Save it for another time Lotor," Lance droned, using every effort to roll away. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Then I'll join you."

Lance flinched. "Is that such a good idea? The doctor said—"

"Oh, relax," Lotor chastised. "I'm not going to touch you. But you're hardly fragile."

Lance didn't have to wonder what he meant for very long. Lotor wrapped his arms around Lance and cradled him. 

"Just let me hold you," Lotor wasn't asking. 

"You know," Lance wanted to sound teasing, but it was coming out spiteful. "We could be doing a lot more if you let the doctors heal me up."

"We're not having this conversation again," Lotor murmured in Lance's ear, his voice threatening. "Go to sleep."

Lance let himself fall into Lotor's body—even if he wasn't very happy about it. He just wanted the doctors to fix him up so the pain could end. That wasn't going to happen. Lotor made it very clear that Lance was going to suffer for his rebellion. Lotor allowed the doctors to heal Lance after every fight—he insisted it was a privilege. Lance was acting out on the impression that he was indestructible. Lance couldn't be confident in the doctors to save him in case...

Lance gagged, remembering Lotor's words. _In case I take it too far._

Now, Lance was going to suffer every injury Lotor gave him so he could feel the weight of his infractions day after day; hour after hour and minute after excruciatingly painful minute. 

*** * * * ***

A couple days had passed since their almost-fight. Lotor was kinder and far more patient. Lance was getting used to being more polite and accommodating. As a result of their combined efforts, they were getting along better. Lance wasn't pushing dangerous topics and Lotor didn't have to yell at Lance. Their existence together had become peaceful. 

Lotor decided to take Lance to the pool. 

He had Lance in the water, floating on his back. He spun him around and let him float, just feeling the sensation of the pressure on his arms—water massaging his head and brushing his hair. It was peaceful.

Lotor's eyes traced Lance's curves. He looked at every bruise and cut as if they were a paint stroke on a canvas. It made Lance feel so terribly endangered and beloved at the same time. 

"I'm starting to question the intentions behind your minimal swimwear rule," Lance teased.

"What?" Lotor hummed without looking away. "You are in no condition to swim with heavy layers of fabric. We needed to free up your body for safer movement."

Lance rolled his eyes. "I'm sure."

"No really," Lotor whispered. 

Lance suddenly felt Lotor's hands still, turning his body with a firm urgency. It was an urgency Lance found all too familiar. It had been over a weak since they'd touched each other behind quick kisses and gentle cuddles. 

Lance found himself craving Lotor's touch; eagerness and shame battling each other in his head. 

Lance wasted no time fighting that useless war. In the end, Lotor would win, no matter what Lance decided. It would be so much easier to just give in. 

Lance let his lips seal over Lotor's. Lotor didn't let Lance settle into a comfortable rhythm. His touch was harsh and desperate. Each kiss was hard and powerful in a way that left Lance's stomach swirling. Lotor was stirring a dangerous fire in Lance's veins. He was reawakening that deeper, darker part of Lance's desires that craved to be under Lotor's control. As much as Lance wanted to deny it, there was a part of Lance that had been just as attracted to the scary parts of Lotor as he was to the kind, charming prince. From the moment they met on the castle, Lotor showered him with devotion and praise. The moment Lotor was let our of his cell he kissed Lance and touched him in a way that made Lance feel like he had no choice—like Lotor could do anything he wanted to him. 

In many ways, Lance got what he wanted. He got the man who flirted and courted him honorable, without relenting or straying for any reason. He also got the powerful beast who could overpower him and kiss him roughly, a hand in his hair. What Lance didn't ask for was the enforcer hiding behind Lotor's eyes—always watching and waiting. Lotor had proven his ability to turn sex into a weapon for punishment or reward; he was using it now.

Lotor's teeth were at his neck. His sharp, strong canines digging into Lance's soft flesh with delicious sparks of pleasure.

"Lance," Lotor groaned, his voice deep and cracked. 

Lotor's hand squeezed Lance's thigh before traveling closer to his waist, petting him hungrily. Lance knew what he wanted, but he didn't know why Lotor was asking for permission. 

"What?" Lance growled, biting Lotor's ear. "Afraid to take what you want from me?"

Lotor's eyes met his. His purple irises were compressed into a sea of yellow and black. His lips turned up, a deadly smile exposing sharp teeth. 

"You're going to regret that, young paladin."

*** * * * ***

Their little activities at the swimming pool were ill-advised. Lance and Lotor pushed the boundaries way too soon and Lance freaked out on him. They were both so desperate to reclaim something they used to have—a comfort? Lance didn't know. All he knew was that Lotor was familiar. And when they were together, Lotor expected nothing from Lance. No pleasant words or confessions of love. Lotor saw their time together as as an expression in its own way. 

They'd been awkward and distant the past few days. Lotor blamed Lance for it; he always did. This time, Lance blamed Lotor. Lotor was spending hours and hours away from the ship. He'd been leaving Lance alone, attended by guards while he went to do... whatever it was he did. 

When Lotor came back to his bedroom, he had Lance dress in comfortable clothes. Lance thought that meant Lotor was going to make it up to him.

Lotor brought him to the top deck. Lance found himself humming with excitement. He was looking forward to time in the library. It had been so long since he'd read a story or studied the Galran language.

When Lotor opened the doors, there were four guards standing around his table. Lance sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

He doubted he'd be getting everything he wanted anytime soon. 

Lotor left Lance to his own devices. Lance was embarrassed practicing his speaking—his tongue was so far from galra. He had to push so hard to get the accent right and he knew he wasn't even close. His face muscles physically hurt from saying the words and he was starting to sweat. Lance felt like the guards were judging him. 

It was too soon in his curriculum—Lance really needed to review—but he decided to teach himself some new material. 

It had been several hours since Lotor left him alone. They hadn't been apart that long since Lotor injured him. Lance grew even more depressed by the hour. It wasn't that he had a problem with Lotor being away—he was grateful for the space. 

But Lance had grown used to his own space over the past few weeks. Before the ankle cuffs, their were soldiers and guards stationed around Lance every second of every day. He had to shower, change, and go to the bathroom under supervision. After Lotor gave Lance access to their personal deck, his whole life changed. Lance re-adapted to privacy in less than a day. 

The library, the pool, even the track... these were spaces where Lance had freedom. He could do what he wanted and go where he wanted. He could study old galran at his own pace. Now, the guards had returned to his side. 

Lance had lost everything he'd manage to gain during his captivity in one move.

Lotor returned unarmed. His hair wasn't pinned back, but he was in full battle armor.

"Leave us," he ordered the guards.

Lance sat at his table, staring at his hands with his head down. Lotor pulled the bench away from the table, spinning it until Lance was facing Lotor.

Lotor knelt in front of him. He pulled Lance's hands to his lips and kissed his knuckles tenderly. Lance didn't acknowledge him. Lotor continued, trailing up his arms until their heads were level. They made eye contact for a brief moment. Lance looked away. He wasn't interested in anything Lotor had to say to him right now.

Regardless, Lotor cupped Lance's face. He leaned forward, touching their heads together and taking steady breaths—like he was breathing Lance in. Lance closed his eyes, giving in to the pressure and leaning in. It didn't felt like he was leaning to Lotor for support or love—it felt like he was giving up. All the strength and tension left Lance's muscles until he was nothing. Lotor won; he defeated him. 

Lotor pulled him into a tight embrace and whispered in his ear. "We're going on a trip."

Lance tensed. Lotor took him on lots of trips—he never made such a big deal out of it.

"I found your home planet." Lotor brushed a piece of hair behind his ears. "I'm taking you home."


	19. Family Reunion

**Lance**

* * *

Lance took a deep breath: now was as good a time as any to try. "You can take these off, now." 

Lotor glanced up from the console. He followed Lance's finger to his ankles. Lotor didn't show any signs of outright rage or disappointment, which was a good sign. 

Lotor stood up from his chair and sat down by Lance. Before he spoke, Lance knew what he was going to say. He wasn't going to remove the ankle cuffs, but he was going to tell Lance how much he loved him despite it.

Lance looked away, his whole body clenching tight with rage. 

Lotor's hand was gentle on his cheek. Lotor turned Lance's head so they could look at each other. 

"I can't take the tracking devices off."

Lance glared at him. " _Why not_?" 

Lotor didn't look away when he answered. "We both know why."

"You think I'll run away?" Lance scoffed. "Where would I go? There's nothing on this planet that can defeat a broken galra fighter, much less fight off the Sincline ships!"

Lotor sighed. "Why would I go," he said.

Lance frowned. "What?"

"Why would I go," Lotor repeated. He stood up, walking back to the console. "Now where would I go; why would I go."

It took Lance a minute to realize what Lotor was saying. Lance had practically confessed that the only reason he wouldn't run away was because he had no where to go, not because he wanted to stay. That was a little slip up; but a big mistake.

"I only meant to comfort you," Lance promised. 

Lotor didn't take his eyes off the screen, but his whole body turned slightly towards Lance. He was so desperate it made Lance's heart ache. He almost didn't want to take advantage of Lotor's hope. Lotor loved him so badly it made Lance what to be everything he could for him. If Lance had a heart, he would sit down and shut up.

Lance rose from his chair and walked over to Lotor. He pried Lotor's arms away from the controls. Lotor obliged, allowing Lance to pull him away. 

Lance placed both of his hands on Lotor's face. For once, he was the one doing the comforting. It felt good. 

Lotor leaned forward hesitantly. Lance rose on his toes to meet Lotor in the middle. Their lips met softly and without demand. There was no fear or force involved. Lance wondered if this is what it was supposed to be like. If he gave in to Lotor and offered his Consent, maybe it would always be this sweet. 

Lance pulled away, but kept his hands on Lotor's neck. 

"You're so afraid all the time," Lance whispered. "I spent half my time just thinking of ways to make you more comfortable."

Lotor glanced up, meeting Lance's gaze for a second before glancing back at his ankles. 

"And I know," Lance licked his lips. "I know hearing this might scare you, too, but I don't want my family to see me like this." 

"Of course, you don't," Lotor mumbled. 

"So I'll say it again, but keep in mind, I'm only saying it for you. There is nowhere I can go, so there is nothing to worry about." 

"I have an alternative." Lotor kissed his cheek. 

Lotor went to the resting quarters to retrieve something. Their journey had been more than a little cramped in those quarters. After all, they were travelling in the Sinlcine ships. Lance demanded it—he knew how hard it was to track those ships—and he didn't want the galra to find his home any sooner than they would have because of him.

Lotor tried to convince him to share a bed the first night, but it didn't work out. After all, Lotor designed these ships. And unlike any other Prince, he designed them to be functional, not comfortable. So they were sleeping in separate beds. If Lance could offer any advice to the human race, it was to sleep in galra-sized beds. 

Lotor came back with a small case in his hands. It looked like a jewelry box for a necklace. Lance ran his fingers along the leather case. Whatever was inside, was important.

"I'm not supposed to give you these until..." Lotor swallowed. "After."

"After?" Lance asked. "Oh... _after_."

 _After I give my Consent,_ Lance realized. 

"I thought a lot about what to give you," Lotor explained. "As beautiful as you'd be with earrings, I wouldn't want you to lose them in a fight. And a necklace presents a lot of the same problems."

Lotor opened the case. Inside were two beautiful golden bracelets. They weren't chains and had no give. They were stubborn like wires but so beautiful. They were thin, but strong. The case was glowing. 

"In galran culture," Lotor told him. "Marriage is shone through gold."

Lance traced the bracelets with his fingertips.

"They don't have to mean anything," Lotor promised. "Not yet; not until you're ready but... they have the same tracking system as what's on your ankles."

"You can... You can take them off?" Lance asked. 

"Yes," Lotor kissed his head. "I can."

Lance smiled, his eyes welling up. It had been so long since he hadn't felt the weight of the cuffs on his ankles. It had been months, for sure. 

"Why is the case glowing?" Lance asked.

Lotor pulled the bracelets out of the case. "The tracking system is quintessence-based. these bracelets are infused with the strongest, most concentrated source of quintessence in the universe. It will never run out of power. That is, as long as it is fed a steady supply. The case supplies that. But on you, your natural quintessence will supply them with more than enough."

Lance held up one of the bracelets to the light and thought, _he's put a tracking device in my wedding ring._

"Will you allow me to put them on you?" Lotor asked. 

Lance looked at his ankles. Beautiful bracelets versus heavy iron cuffs—no contest. 

"Please," Lance begged.

Lotor rolled Lance's sleeves up. He slipped the rigid bracelets on Lance's wrists. The bracelets started to glow before molding themselves around his arms comfortably. Lance tugged at the bracelets—they didn't budge. 

"I wasn't expecting them to be so..." Stubborn, rigid, strong... " _Comfortable_. They have no give but... I can barely feel them."

Lotor smiled. "I'm glad. I am so glad, Lance."

Before Lance could answer, Lotor knelt at his feet. He touched the ankle cuffs and held them in place for a couple of seconds. They opened with a hiss. They were just like the gag that Lotor made him wear—genetically coded to Lotor's touch. Lance was willing to bet that the bracelets were the same.

When Lotor stood up, he set the heavy ankle cuffs down on a table. Lance took a couple steps, surprised by how easy walking was without the weight. 

Lotor grabbed Lance by the arms, holding him still. "Close your eyes."

Lance took a moment to prepare himself for whatever it was Lotor had planned. When he closed his eyes, he felt Lotor's lips on his. He leaned into the kiss, Lotor's intensity and passion growing until Lotor forced himself away. 

"Keep your eyes closed," Lotor ordered. 

"Okay," Lance breathed. 

As time went on, Lance curled in on himself. He didn't know what to do, just standing alone with his eyes closed. But what would Lotor do if he opened his eyes? Lance's shoulders tensed up and he flinched. 

He felt Lotor's lips on his and he pulled away out of shock. 

"Don't be afraid," Lotor whispered. "Open your eyes."

Lance obeyed. There was a dark green and brown jacket in Lotor's hands. The hood was white—there were bright yellow stripes on the sleeves. 

Lance yanked it out of Lotor's hands. He held it to his face and sniffed, not believing that it was real. 

"My jacket," Lance sighed. 

"I should have given it back a long time ago."

Lance rolled it into a ball and tucked it to his chest, hugging it tight. 

"I thought, perhaps, your family might be more comfortable seeing you when you look..."

"More human?" Lance guessed. "Less like a alien fighter?"

"Yes," Lotor chuckled. 

Lance fiddled with the curling edges of his hair. 

"I could cut it for you," Lotor offered. 

Lance shook his head. "Actually, I was thinking longer hair would be a good thing. I don't want them to think I'm the same person as when I left."

"We could lengthen it," Lotor offered.

Lance frowned. "I'm not walking in with cheap extensions."

"What's an extension?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "You know, when you like, _extend_ the hair."

"I was thinking we could just pick the easy way and grow it," Lotor said awkwardly.

Lance blinked. "You can do that?"

"Yes," Lotor nodded. "It's very simple."

"Well, I suppose if you messed it up you could just cut it."

"So you want to?" Lotor asked, running his fingers through Lance's hair.

Lance actually did. Like, a lot. All of the coolest rebel fighters he knew had long hair. He didn't want it long like Lotor's, but maybe to his chin—just messy enough to be cool. 

But it felt like a really weird way to do it. 

"No, I'll pass," Lance decided. 

Lotor nodded, his disappointment palpable. 

"Can we turn in for the night?" Lance asked. 

"Yes, I think that would be best," Lotor agreed. "I would like to point out, we could have been there by now. Had the cruiser not dropped us off—"

"As long as Zarkon is on the throne, I am not taking any chances," Lance snapped. 

Lotor looked away. "I'll always protect you, Lance—you and your people."

"From Haggar?" Lance asked. "You can shield us from her? All the time? I know you're afraid of her."

"I am not—"

"Cautious," Lance corrected.

"Very well." Lotor gestured to the sleeping quarters. "Can I convince you to try again? The bed isn't that small." 

Lance bit his lip. "I'll make a deal with you," Lance proposed. "I get to keep this jacket—forever—and we'll give it a shot."

Lotor's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Deal."

* * * * *

They made Lance's hair longer. 

The journey was so long they just didn't have much else to do. The hours were taxing on Lance's mind. He hadn't had to follow any kind of mental procedure for a very long time. 

He never would have thought being in constant close quarters with Lotor would make him less capable at passing the time. He was a prisoner! he didn't have anything to do!

Apparently, Lance had adapted well to his environment with Lotor. He slept, ate, trained, studied, swam, and ran. Doing nothing all day was a huge drain on Lance's mental strength. 

Lotor treated his scalp to some kind of ointment or cream (that he had a suspiciously large amount of) until it grew to where Lance wanted. Lotor even took some knives and messed up the edged for a rougher, rebellious texture. 

It was the most effort Lance had ever given to make his appearance look effortless. It wasn't just that Lance wanted to feel like a rebel again, he wanted his family to know he was one. 

He also had a plan to lie about how old he was. The last thing he wanted to do was walk in the front door and tell his family that he was barely eighteen and thinking about getting married. Or that he was barely eighteen and a serious rebellion righter. 

_How old could I pretend to be?_ Lance wondered. _Twenty? Definitely not thirty._

Lance remembered his eldest sister, Rachel. She had a babyish face. People assumed she was sixteen when she was twenty-four and already had to kids.

Lance smirked. _Twenty-four; Older than Veronica but not older than the others._

Veronica was going to be so pissed. 

Lance found a place to see his reflection. he liked his hair this way. It was clumpy and curly and wavy all at the same time. It made him look older. Lotor stood in the reflection behind him. 

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about for a while."

Lance's heart seized. "Is this the same thing you tried to bring up while I was on bed rest?"

"Yes."

"Do I want to hear it?"

"You won't at first," Lotor admitted. "But I think you'll be glad I confided in you."

"Then... Let's get it out of the way," Lance sighed. 

Lotor held his hand out for Lance to take. Lance grabbed it and Lotor led him to the sleeping quarters. He set Lance down on the bed and closed the door. The main lights were off, but Lance could still see. 

_He's removing the environment,_ Lance told himself. _He's trying to make sure you won't freak out._

"Being the heir to the throne is no guarantee that I will rule," Lotor started. "Even giving your Consent is no guarantee—it depends on how the people react. Throughout history, people have sought out royal blood lines to light the flame... but in this time of war, there are more power-hungry generals than I can count."

"Light the flame?" Lance asked. "Is that a reference to the Kral Zera?"

Lotor blinked. 

"I read about it," Lance explained. 

"Ah," Lotor realized. "And it is."

Lance waited for Lotor to continue. 

"I am telling you this, so that you will know what I am asking for is not out of obligation, but out of love and hope," Lotor explained.

"Oh," Lance realized, sitting up like he'd been struck by lightning. "Oh."

"It's okay, Lance," Lotor shushed him. "You don't have to be afraid." 

"You want to have a child," Lance panicked.

"Yes," Lotor confirmed it. "With you, Lance."

Lance shook his head. "I can't think that far ahead."

Lotor squinted. "No... We don't have to wait until after you give your Consent. Generations of royals have had children outside the bonds of marriage." 

"Lotor..." Lance froze. Why did Lotor want a child? Why would Lotor, of all people, want to bring a little baby into this world? "Wait... outside the bonds of... Lotor? Have you ever had a child?"

Lotor looked down and mumbled, "Daija."

"Daija?" Lance repeated. 

_It's a name._

"That's a beautiful name, Lotor," Lance whispered. 

"She was my whole world. I never thought it was possible for one person to hold all of your joy... but it is. I'd forgotten what that felt like—" Lotor cupped Lance's cheeks. "Until you."

"What happened to her?"

Lotor smiled sadly. "She died."

"Why do you want... with me?" Lance stuttered.

"Because, you are my joy. You are my life. You have given me hop in a universe without hope and—" Lotor took a deep breath. "I have mourned the death of a child for thousands of years. And then I came to the library one day, and you were speaking the language she spoke... and I knew."

Lance leaned forward, kissing Lotor's knuckles. His face was hot. He felt like he was going to cry. It had been so long that Lotor had professed his love in a way that felt genuine. It made Lance's heart swell. 

"I knew."

"I—I've always..." Once Lance said it, he would never get to take it back. "I've always wanted a family."

"You'll do it?" Lotor gasped, like he never imaged he'd get what he wanted. 

"I'll consider when to do it," Lance corrected him. "And how."

"I would like the baby to be ours," Lotor said. "galra, altean... human."

Lance frowned. "Is that possible?"

Lotor nodded. "Our advancements in genetic manipulation and cloning technology can create forms of life as unique and complex as any living being in the universe."

Lance pictured it immediately. He could have a tiny baby with purple skin and altean ears—white hair. Intelligent and empathetic and strong... and _his_. 

"Not to mention," Lotor added. "No future disease. I have no idea what the humans have been struggling with—but I assume you haven't mastered the art of genetics and mental illness quite yet."

Lance shook his head. "You can stop talking."

"Okay," Lotor agreed readily. 

Lance could have a baby. He wouldn't be alone anymore! He wouldn't...

Lance stopped. he instantly felt like the whole world was dissolving around him.

 _I can have an innocent by my side while Lotor beats me._ Lance thought. _I can bring a child into Lotor's home—the same home where he rapes and tortures me._

_Never._

Lance leaned in, holding tightly onto Lotor so he couldn't see his face. 

_Never, never, never._

"How soon until we arrive?"

"One more day," Lotor told him. "Would you like something to sleep until then? I know this must be weighing on you." 

Lance nodded eagerly. 

"Oh." Lotor rushed to go get some medicine.

Lotor probably hadn't been expecting him to respond to quickly. After all, Lance had just gotten excited about the idea of a baby. Lotor saw that—there would be no taking it back. In fact, Lotor had all of the tools he needed from Lance to do it. He didn't need Lance's Consent for them to have a child—he admitted that. He could get Lance's genetic material any time he wanted.

It was too late. Lance had condemned an innocent baby to live in hell with him and Lotor. Lance wanted to be a father—but Lance did not want Lotor to be one. 

*** * * * ***

Lance had stared at his old jacket for nearly ten minutes before he decided to leave it behind. As much as he wanted to have it back, he didn't want his family to see him at the same fifteen year old who packed his bags for the garrison. 

He'd been through far too much. 

Lance put a lot of thought into what he wore. He picked out the darkest pants he could find and some heavy boots. Their weight was familiar, much like the ankle cuffs used to be. He slipped on a bullet-proof tank top with thick straps. When he finally put on his jacket, it was the one Lotor gave him months earlier as a replacement. 

Lance left his hair down, falling around his face in dark curls. 

When he stepped out of the sleeping quarters, Lotor sucked in a breath. 

Lance smiled. "Now, put on your helmet. I don't want you scaring them before I can explain."

"Yes, my prince." Lotor did as Lance asked, placing a darkened shade over his helmet to conceal his face. 

Lotor lowered the bridge and Lance took his first step on Earth in years. 

* * * * *

The Sincline ship was concealed in an old plain where Lance used to run as a kid. It was guarded by some of Lotor's personal guard, who weren't joining them to Lance's home. The walk was only a few miles, but it felt like they were crossing the whole of Cuba. 

Finally, they reached the edge of the plain and reached the road. 

"My house is just up that way," Lance whispered. 

He wondered who was home. He didn't know if it was a week day or a weekend. He didn't know exactly what time it was. It was possible that nothing was the same—even though Lance wanted it to be. Veronica could have gone away to college. Rachel could be married. Lisa could have another kid—Lance had no way of knowing. 

Lotor grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Lance nodded in thanks and walked further up the road.

When he saw his house, he broke out into a run. Lotor trailed behind him at a respectable distance. Lance started to call out for his family, but there was no answer. There were no lights on inside the house. Lance grabbed the fake rock that held their spare key, but there was nothing inside it. 

Lance turned on Lotor. "Did you do this?"

"Did I do what?" Lotor's shock was genuine. "Is everything alright?"

Lance turned away. it couldn't be a coincidence—those didn't happen to him. Lance kicked down the door. He'd packed more into the kick than he needed and the hinged broke. The door fell away from the frame. Lance ran inside. The living room looked the same, but there were less photos on the wall. Actually, there were _no_ photos on the wall. 

Lance heard someone arm a shotgun behind him. He heard Lotor's gun charge just as quickly. 

"Nobody fire," Lance said very calmly. 

He turned his head to face the lone gunman. It was his old neighbor. 

"McClain?" Leo, his old neighbor, asked shocked.

Lance gestured for Lotor to lower his gun. Lotor did, but Lance could tell by the way he was standing that he wasn't happy about it. 

Lance couldn't move. He couldn't think of anything to say. He was so shocked seeing his old neighbor in his house. 

"Boy, you're families not here," his neighbor finally said.

"Where are they?" Lance asked instantly.

"They moved, son." Leo put the shotgun down. "They live outside Plaht City."

"By the garrison?" Lance gasped.

"Yeah, kid."

Lance looked at the walls. His family abandoned all of the future, but they took the pictures with them. 

"You went missing."

"I know," Lance droned, lost in thought. 

"You disappeared with those other two boys—"

"I remember."

Lance walked down the hall until he found his old room. It was clearly re-purposed for Nadia and Silvio, just as Lance had insisted. There were abandoned toys on the floor.

"I have a phone number," Leo whispered behind him. 

"No," Lance insisted.

He wouldn't be able to hold himself together on the phone. And if is family was living close to the garrison, would they turn him in? Would they report him to the garrison to find out what happened? What would happen to Lotor? Even worse, what would happen to the people who tried to hurt Lotor?

"Can I interest you in an address?" 

Lance's chest tightened. "Yes."

Leo left to get a pen and some paper. He scribbled the address down before handing it to Lance. When Lance reached out, Leo took his hand and placed it in both of his. 

Leo breathed. "Whatever you've gotten yourself into—" 

"I can handle it," Lance snapped before thinking. 

His neighbor tightened his grip on Lance's hand. "Good luck finding you family, son."

Lance half-smiled. "Thank you."

He pulled his hand away. Lotor was standing in the hallway, listening in with interest. Lance nodded at him, ordering him to return to the Sincline ship. They left the house.

Lance was halfway across the front lawn when he turned to face his old friend. "Leo?"

"Yes, kid?"

"Don't tell them I'm coming."

Leo looked at the floor. "Whatever you say."

Lance got stuck staring at him. He felt Lotor grabbing his arm, pulling him away from the house.

"I thought this would be it," Lance sobbed. "I thought I was going to see them."

"You will," Lotor insisted. "You know where the are now."

"What if they're not there?" Lance started breathing heavily. 

Lotor grabbed him by both of his shoulders to snap him out of it. His helmet was still darkened, but Lance knew he was looking at him in earnest. 

Lance took a deep breath. "I'm okay."

* * * * *

The hike back to the ship was even longer than the hike out. By the time they got back, Lance took of his boots and threw them in the cockpit without a care. He took of his jacket and stretched his shoulders. He was hot and sweaty and could do with a shower, but he was too tired to care. 

He was actually starting to think this was a bad idea. 

Lotor stood in front of him and took of his helmet. His face was edged with concern. Lance knew he was about to say something inspiring or comforting, but Lance didn't want to talk about it. 

"That's much better." Lance pointed at Lotor's face. "I missed you." 

Lotor wasn't buying it. He knelt down, grabbing both of Lance's hands. "Tell me where to go." 

Lance looked at the sheet of paper. "Right outside the most advanced headquarters on the entire planet. They're out of reach."

"Why?" Lotor wondered. 

"Because... My people will imprison you. Humans are not a trusting race," Lance explained. "They'd rather lock you up and then ask questions—they'd never believe you mean no harm."

"They sound very galra," Lotor pointed out.

Lance opened his mouth to speak, but faltered in shock. Lotor was right. Humans were a lot like the galra. If humans had taken to space thousands of years ago, where would they be now? Wouldn't they have done the same thing? Humans have been enslaving each other for centuries. Humans have always craved power and money over kindness and unity. Wouldn't humans also hunt down the whole universe for quintessence?

"We are," Lance supposed.

Lotor kissed his knuckles. "How about we go to the beach? You always talk about—"

"No." Lance sat up.

He took the console and pulled up a map of Earth that Lotor created as they flew in. He located the massive sprawl of Plaht City and panned south, to a little town directly between the galaxy garrison and the city. 

Did his family really move out here after he went missing? 

He located the neighborhood, but he couldn't read street names on Lotor's map. He selected the whole area and punched in the coordinates. 

"See, Lance?" Lotor smiled. "We'll be there in minutes."

"You mean we'll land in the desert in minutes. Then we have to hike to the town."

"I have a better idea," Lotor mused. "I have some old racers in the cargo hold, just in case."

Lance cocked his head. "Those aren't exactly stealthy."

Lotor shrugged. "Neither am I, hood on or off."

Lance leaned back into the chair. "Fine, let's just go then."

Lance wanted to see his family more than anything in the world. It's what he'd wanted for years! Why was that changing now? Why was he so upset?

Lotor blacked out the windows and started to fly away. Lance realized he was getting rid of the sensory elements again, trying to keep Lance calm. 

Lance realized that if he were to have a full-blown freak out right now, Lotor wouldn't be able to take him to the hospital to get him better.

Lance closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He would _not_ freak out. 

Lance felt the ship start to shake before going deadly still. The hum of the engine stopped. Lance oped his eyes. Every ounce of nervousness he felt before was back. Lotor held out his hand for Lance. Lance obliged. 

Lance turned around to grab his jacket and boots when Lotor said, "You won't need them."

Lance frowned.

Lotor kissed him. "Trust me."

The bridge of the Sincline ship lowered into a pile of soft, warm sand. 

Lance stepped onto the beach. The heat on his face was real. The wind was full of sand and unpredictable. The sky was a deep, deep blue. The humidity tickles the hairs on Lance's arms. 

"Lotor..." Lance whispered. 

"You have a habit of punishing yourself when things go wrong," Lotor told him. "It is my greatest fear that you will regret not doing the things you love while you could."

Lance smiled. 

"Grab a blanket," Lance suggested. 

Lotor frowned. "... _why_?"

Lance chuckled. "So we don't have to sit on the sand... just, trust me." 

Lotor ran back inside. He returned with a blanket. Lotor held out his arm for Lance to take. They walked out on the beach arm in arm.

Lance loved to feel the sand between his toes— _human_ sand, from _Earth_ —but it was getting hot. Lance started to trail behind Lotor, his feet burning. 

Lance tapped Lotor on the shoulder. "I need—"

Lotor bent over and pulled Lance into this arms. Lotor continued on, happy as ever. 

"Oh," Lance smirked. "Now I get why you made me leave my boots."

" _I don't know what you mean_ ," Lotor avowed. 

Lance laughed, resting his head against Lotor's shoulder. If Lotor was going to carry him, he might as well make the most of it. 

Lotor set Lance down on the hot sand and they spread the blanket over it. The wind on the beach was calming down, so the top of the blanket remained clean and smooth. Lance laid down and stretched his arms over his head. 

"Take off your shoes," Lance ordered.

"I'm wearing full armor," Lotor scolded him. 

"Then take off your armor," Lance proposed.

Lotor stared at him for a moment, obviously trying not to smile. He set his sword and gun down at the edge of the blanket—then handed Lance something that looked suspiciously like his sword.

"What...?" Lance turned the device in his hands. 

"That'll extend into an altean broadsword," Lotor explained, removing his chest plate and arm guards. "I considered getting you a sniper rifle, but I know you haven't practiced shooting in a while—so I got you a sword instead."

Lance looked at the sword hilt. "Why now?"

Lotor removed the final pieced of his armor and knelt on the blanket. "Seeing that man... Leo? Point a gun at you—it got my heart racing. You are more than capable of protecting yourself. I just have to trust you; like you said."

Lance beamed. 

Lotor joined him on the blanket and stared at the sea. He later closed his eyes, like he was taking in all the beach had to offer—understanding everything he could about Lance's home. 

Lance turned his attention to the ocean, listening to the soft sound of the waves rolling gently over the shore. Lance could feel Lotor staring at him, but he didn't acknowledge it. 

Lance ran his fingers over his bracelets. Lotor said gold was given for marriage. Lance knew Lotor already thought of them as married. At least, he thought they would be soon. 

lance tried to imagine what it would be like to have a family with Lotor. How could be bring a child into this universe? With Zarkon? With war? How much of Lance's child would be selfish human genes and aggressive galra genes? What hope was there for a future?

Lance liked to think Lotor was the worst of Altea and the best of Daibazaal—and Earth was somewhere in between. Which way it would go in the end, that was up to them. Lance was determined to be good. He wanted the humans to be good. 

Lance refused to hold back in life out of fear.

"Lotor?" Lance's voice was lower than a whisper.

"Yes, my prince?" 

"I have one condition," Lance decreed.

Lotor's eyebrows raised.

Lance bit his lip. "I get to name the baby."

Lotor stared at him in complete silence. Lance was afraid he'd said the wrong thing. Maybe Lotor didn't—

Lotor leaned forward, kissing Lance with the biggest, most earnest smile Lance had ever seen. Lance returned the kiss and closed his eyes. They stayed like that for a while. They sat on a blanket surrounded by sand on a beach in Cuba—Lance's home—enjoying each other's embrace. The air was warm; Lotor's lips were warmer. The wind was gentle and soft; Lotor's hands were softer. 

Lance barely registered the sounds of guns from behind him. 

Lance's reflexes were faster than Lotor's. Lance tightened his grip around the sword hilt and spun it in a circle—the way he'd seen Lotor do over a thousand times. The blade materialized with the sound of metal sliding against metal. Lance aimed his polished white blade at the intruder. 

Ten humans in galaxy garrison armor were standing between them and the ship. _How_ they got the drop on them, Lance didn't know. Lotor's weapons were at his feet.

He leaned forward when a sharp voice cried out, "Don't move!"

Lotor stayed still.

Damn it, Lance thought. I convinced him to remove his armor.

Lance positioned himself between the garrison guards and Lotor, ignoring their demands that he stay still. 

Lance looked through the armed garrison soldier and saw a familiar figure ahead. He lowered his sword.

The figure removed her helmet. Her hair was shorter than he remembered. She was wearing wire-framed glasses, not the cute black ones she used to. She looked older over a decade older than when he left, the combination of stress and worry and responsibility weighing on her every move. It was the same combination of burden that Lance saw in the mirror every day. 

" _Veronica_."


	20. Festering

**Lance**

* * *

It took Lance's repeated insistence, but the Garrison troops agreed to not lock Lotor in a cage. Lance and Lotor would abide by a brief quarantine and examination, but they would not hold Lotor against his will. 

Lance, however, was another matter. 

Lotor sat in the hallway while Lance went through a rigorous debriefing and interrogation. The garrison wanted to know everything about who Lotor was and where he came from. Lance explained the same concepts about quintessence and the galra three times—and now he was doing it again. 

They were moving in circles and it drove Lance crazy. Granted, the Garrison officers were more shocked than confused, but it was still irritating. 

After a very intense grueling, it was none other than commander Iverson to save him. 

"Give it a rest, Admiral Sonda," he urged. "The man has had a long journey."

"That doesn't answer our questions—"

"No," Lance snapped. "But I have several times; you just don't believe the answer."

Iverson smiled. "He's got a point there."

"Well how are we supposed to—"

"By doing nothing," Lance growled. "You handle this situation by going home and thinking. Take some time to digest what I have told you. You need to understand this information before you can act, and you are clearly in no position to act right now."

Sonda glared at him. "Now listen here c _adet_ —"

"It's _Paladin_ ," Lance corrected, rising from his chair. "I am a Paladin. I one of the only _eight_ people in the universe alive who has ever piloted a lion for any reason. My authority—and my _expertise_ in this war easily transcends yours. I stopped being a cadet years ago, Admiral Sonda. I am an equally important military leader with valuable intel that _you desperately need_."

Sonda's jaw dropped. She looked more insulted an angry now than ever before. That pissed Lance off; it told him she was more interested in her power over him than she was interested in listening to reason. 

"Sonda," Iverson said calmly. "I would urge you to take a seat and listen to the Paladin."

Lance leaned forward, staring right at Iverson and ignoring the Admiral. "Now I know we're being watched and recorded. I know you and everyone witnesses this conversation have questions. I can answer some of them now. The fact is, the human race is out of their depth in this war. We are not prepared, but we do stand a chance. There are forces out there who will come to our aid. We have—" Lance stopped himself to find the better words. "I have access to a valuable database of incredibly advanced scientific discovered and information. And, as a Paladin of Voltron, I would be more than happy to share what I know with you. But this charade ends here."

Iverson raised an eyebrow. 

"Iverson," Lance continued. "I have a great deal of respect for you and the Garrison. I understand you have your chain of command and your orders, but you must understand that my former allegiance to this organization is outdated. I am a fighter in the coalition against the empire and a diplomat representing Voltron. If we are to come to any sort of arrangement, I need all parties involved—" Lance looked at Admiral Sonda, "to understand that."

Sonda spoke before Iverson did. "Are you threatening to withhold information from the Galaxy Garrison?"

Lance leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes a bit. "No, Admiral Sonda. I _am_ withholding information from you. As would any coalition representative in my place would. Humans are not taking control of the coalition—you are being invited to join the rebellion by us. That means following our rules. I have no obligation to share information with any organization that expresses hostility to the rebellion."

"I understand, Lance," Iverson declared. "He's right. This young man here outranks us both, if you are unable to accept that, you will be removed from this conversation."

Sonda clenched her jaw and glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. Whatever she was waiting for, never came. 

Lance took a deep breath. "I know this isn't going how any of us planned. Even if I weren't on my home planet, I would request that you and your associates take a few days to digest what I have said. Let me know how _you_ want to proceed and I will offer guidance."

Iverson received a message on his tablet. He glanced at the camera before reading it. 

"I assume you would like to see your family in the meantime." 

Lance sucked in a breath. "Yes."

Iverson looked back at the messages on his tablet. 

"If it offers you any comfort, the suits Lotor and I bore when we first landed took samples of the atmosphere. They are automatically programmed to vaccinate the wearers against any disease on the planet where they travel. They also..." Lance hesitated, worried about how they would react to the next piece of information. "...they take highly advanced biological scans of the plane'ts inhabitants and synthesize a universal airborne anti-body to protect the local populations. By now, the populations of Cuba and Texas are immune to diseased from planets galaxies away."

Iverson glanced at his pad. 

"I guarantee this technology offers no harm to humans. I have been using this technology for years."

"You sprayed antibodies in Earth's atmosphere?" Iverson questioned. "Without consulting us?"

Lance leaned forward. "With all due respect, no human scientist would be able to understand the technology without significant time to study. And, by coalition law, it's illegal for any individual to travel without this technology. Otherwise, we'd all be carrying lethal diseases that could wipe out entire civilizations. I wouldn't have been able to travel here. The continued use of this nanotechnology is a condition of my stay here on this planet."

Iverson read off the tablet. "We would like to study this technology in the meantime. In exchange, we will bring your family to Garrison headquarters for a few days while we deliberate on the information you've told us."

Lance bit his cheek. "Can I offer an alternative?" 

"Of course," Iverson said. 

"You shook my hand after I passed the initial quarantine. I would recommend that your top scientists take samples of your blood and study the antibodies. They'll know within the hour if it causes any harm. If they are confident in the technology, you allow me and my family to return to Cuba for a couple of days."

"It would be best if you stayed here," Iverson pleaded. 

"I..." Lance slumped. "I know. But I've been in and out of facilities like this for years. I—I would like to go home."

Iverson stood without looking at his tablet. "Will you allow us to hold you and Lotor for a few hours while we run blood tests?"

Lance nodded. 

He stood, stretching out his shoulders. "There needs to be trust between us, Iverson. Now more than ever."

"Of course," Iverson opened the door for him.

Sonda stayed behind, stewing in her embarrassment and rage.

"Would you prefer to wait with your—ah—companion?" Iverson asked awkwardly. 

Lance smiled. "Yes, please."

Iverson nodded at the door at the end of the hall. Lance felt a powerful urge to explain his relationship with Lotor—to explain that it wouldn't get in the way of his work, but it wasn't a fling either. Lance shook his head. Iverson didn't need to know any of that.

Iverson cleared his throat. "I know it's not my place to ask, but... what's it like—" Iverson gestured behind the door. "With your... companion?"

Lance smiled. "It's pretty much exactly like any other relationship you could ever imagine. People are pretty much people no matter where you go."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Lance grabbed the door handle, but turned back. "And Iverson? Just so you know, out in the greater universe... that's a really, really weird question to ask."

Iverson's eyes grew. "Noted."

*** * * * ***

The door led Lance down a very long hallway, with only one other door at the end. Lance pursed his lips. Undoubtedly, they were holding them in a very secure part of the Garrison facility. Not that it mattered, Lotor had a key on him that could summon the Sincline ship at any moment. 

There was one advantage to the long hallway: Lotor's voice traveled.

Lance froze outside the door, listening to Veronica and Lotor talk. 

"A declaration of war?" Lotor's voice sounded smug. 

Lance could feel Veronica's nervousness through the wall. 

Lance knew how hard it could be to accept the galra as a benevolent people. Not because they were _actually_ benevolent, but because they weren't like monsters. They were strong, tall aliens with purple skin. When they smiled, their fangs protruded from their lips. 

Sometimes, Lotor would poke Lance's teeth with his finger and laugh. Lotor found Lance's lack of sharp teeth adorable. Like when a baby puppy growls at it's toy—it was endearing and cute. Lance had come to accept the fact that, as a human, he looked relatively harmless. But Lance was no longer the only human in a sea of galra; Lotor was the only galra in a sea of humans. Lance learned to accommodate other beings to present himself like a soldier. Now Lotor would have to learn to take his more aggressive traits and hide them. 

In this situation, Lotor was a terrifying figure sitting with a young human who lost her brother years ago. 

"I hope, in time, you can come to know me well enough to know when I am kidding," Lotor tried. 

Veronica's eyes widened a little. "You mean, for Lance?"

Lance pressed his face against the door, flattening his hand against the cool metal. He hadn't heard his sister's voice in so long. She sat right on the other side of the door. 

With Lotor.

Lance sucked in a breath. He'd been holding it together relatively well this trip. So far he'd only had one melt down and he was able to stand his ground with the Garrison officers. Now, his world's were colliding. 

Every single thing Lance feared became a reality. Lance's fear of Voltron seeing him with Lotor reflected perfectly onto this new situation. Now Lance's family would have to see him with Lotor. 

But that was okay! It was no big deal, as long as Lance didn't let them know that he was on the wrong side of the war. If his family never found out that Lotor kidnapped him, then he has nothing to worry about. 

This was Lance's opportunity to be a brave paladin again. 

Veronica's voice rang through the hall; confident and unwavering. "My brother went missing _two years ago_."

"The time he has spent apart from his family has weighed on him heavily," Lotor promised. "I would have returned him to you sooner if I could have."

"If you could have?" Veronica growled, but there was a peaceful reservation to her words. "What could have stopped you?"

"I should leave the majority for Lance to explain, I'm sure he's dying to..." Lotor bit his lip. "Lance discovered an alien ship on this planet—"

"The Blue Lion we saw flying through the sky," Veronica recalled.

"Yes," Lotor said. "The alien ship had pre-programmed coordinates—as soon as Lance boarded the vessel, it detected his life sign and created a wormhole. He and his friends were portaled halfway across the universe. The location of Earth... the distance was far to great to cover. I had no access to the coordinates from his ship. And..." Lotor tried to think of a way to explain the rest. "There are large swaths of the empire standing between the coalition and this planet."

"The coalition?"

"The rebellion—the resistance."

"And which side are you on?" Veronica asked. "You are galra, aren't you? As in, the Galra Empire?"

"Have humans never fought?"

Veronica snickered. "That's fair."

"Is there anything I can do to ease your mind?" Lotor offered. 

Veronica pondered his request for a couple of minutes. 

"My brother has been missing for two years," Veronica whispered. "I've seen the footage of Shiro getting captured by the galra—being sent to the things called _druids_... When Shiro resurfaced and disappeared with my brother... I thought he was in an inescapable cell," Veronica took a deep breath. "Then one of your ships lands on my planet, _right by my house_."

"What's your concern?"

"I don't think I have one, just that—" Veronica grunted. "I don't know what to do with everything that's happened. I have been afraid of these other beings for two years and then I find my brother on a beach with..."

"With one of the beings you have learned to fear," Lotor surmised. 

"Exactly," she whispered. 

"Fear can be unlearned," Lotor mumbled. "It takes time, but it can be." 

"Are you with him?" Veronica blurted. 

Lotor paused. "I think you should speak to Lance." 

"Are you in love?" 

Lance felt himself blush. 

"I know what I feel for him—it is unlike anything I have felt in my entire life. Lance is... younger. His feelings and his... his life have always been shrouded by his inability to choose. How can he choose me when he couldn't even return home when he wanted to?" 

"Are you saying you brought him here to make him love you?" 

Lance sighed. He knew that's exactly what Lotor was doing. 

"I... I only meant that his time away has weighed on him heavily." 

"You want him to love you." 

Lance opened the door before Lotor could respond. Veronica was sitting across from Lotor, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Lotor's posture was more uptight, his shoulders tense. 

Lance addressed Lotor first. "If you're trying to look non-threatening, you are failing." 

Lotor blushed, spinning his shoulders back and trying to relax his posture. Lance touched his cheek affectionately. 

"Better," Lance whispered. 

Veronica's eyes darted between them at the speed of light. Her fists clenched tightly against her legs. Lance held out his hand for her to take. Reluctantly, she reached out. When their hands met, he pulled her out of the chair. In an instant, they fell together and held tight. 

"My baby brother," Veronica sobbed into his shoulder.

Lance gripped her like his life depended on it. She was his whole life. He grew up with her. They played together and cried together. They learned everything together. She even chose a college close to home so that he wouldn't have to finish high school alone. And how did he thank her?

Oh, right. By moving out at sixteen. By running away to space. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Lance whispered. 

"Is everything okay?" She asked, hugging him tighter. "Are you okay? What's happened to you?"

Lance pulled away. "Just... time dilations and stuff."

"Time dilations?" Veronica repeated. "Wait, no..."

Lance shrugged. In truth, Lance was probably only a couple months older than he should be on earth. He was still eighteen, but he didn't want her to know that. He didn't want any of them to know. This was his only opportunity to see his family. In his dreams, he was always alone. 

Lotor was standing right behind them. That changed everything. 

"How long as it been?" Veronica asked with her hand hovering by his cheek. 

"A long time," Lance sighed, not ready to commit to the lie just yet. "I missed you."

"We were so worried," Veronica told him. "We talked about you every day."

Lance grimaced. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse."

Veronica smiled. 

They started to catch up on each other's lives. Veronica had a billion questions about what it was like out in the universe, but Lance wanted to hear about his family. They took turns exchanging information. Veronica asked a question that touched dangerously close to the topic of how Lance and Lotor met. Lance brushed it off with a vague explanation of how many people the Paladins met each week. He thought he did it effortlessly, but she knew something was up. Veronica wisely steered away from the topic of Lotor, who was still in the room. 

Finally, the door opened. Lance and Veronica were sitting cross-legged on the floor like children. Lance rose quickly, trying to compose himself for the Garrison officers. Veronica snorted. 

"There's a shuttle waiting for you outside," Iverson announced. "We're escorting you and your family back to Cuba."

Veronica cocked her head. "Cuba? Why not our house here?"

Lance touched her shoulder. "Too many people. Too dense. Will Lotor and I be taking our ship?"

"Your ship will stay here, we can't have you flying around in an alien spacecraft."

That's fair." Lance held up his hand before Lotor could protest. "Don't worry, they're not going to do anything stupid like take it apart. Right?"

Iverson looked uncomfortable. "Right."

"We'll give you the specs of whatever you need later," Lance decided. "But Lotor and I will be needing our suits and weapons back."

"That—" Iverson sighed. "That can be arranged."

"Thank you."

*** * * * ***

The shuttle ride was interesting to say the least. As entertaining as it was trying to watch Lotor fit into their little seats, with his head bumping the ceiling ever so often, Lance suggested that he go sit in the cockpit. 

Lotor went without protest, which Lance found interesting. Normally, Lotor wouldn't let Lance out of his sight, but he appeared to be giving Lance a lot of control over this situation. He was also showing his trust, like he knew Lance wasn't going to tell Veronica anything he shouldn't. 

When Lotor was gone, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. 

Veronica sat strapped in next to him. She reached over and clutched his hand. "Everything alright?" 

"Yeah, I just..." Lance didn't know what to say. he didn't know what he was feeling. 

"Felt the need to send your boyfriend away?" Veronica laughed. 

Lance glanced at her. He knew she was kidding, but she was right. There were things Lance could say only to her. The cheerful expression on her face slowly crumbled away. 

"Lance?"

"I don't want to go over it too many times," Lance said. "It's exhausting, talking about the war and—and how I left over and over again. I just want to go home and see our family."

She smiled, seeming to accept the answer. 

They rode in silence for a while. The shuttle disembarked from land and started to graze over the water. Lance could practically feel the waves bouncing beneath their craft.

Veronica grabbed his hand again. "I've been calling your name."

Lance shrugged. "There isn't a planet in the universe like Earth. No oceans exactly like ours—no skies as beautiful or blue."

"Is it all really that ugly?" she asked.

"I've seen valleys and paradises that any sane man would say are more beautiful than ours. And, yeah, plenty of planets have blue skies but... there's something about home that's different." 

"What stands out the most?" Veronica asked.

"The colors." Lance leaned back and closed his eyes. "Every other planet with a blue sky is just blue. There's sky blue and navy, but there's no atmosphere or sun, or system like Earth's. There is the slightest imperceptible different to every planet that you can only see if you grew up there. Like, other planets with green grass don't have the same green grass. But all of their greens are the same to me. Only Earth's is unique." He sat up. "Does that make sense?"

"Oddly enough, it does," Veronica said. "Lance..."

"Uh-oh."

She smacked his arm. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Of course."

"No," she shook her head and pinched her nose. "I mean, we've always shared things with each other that the family doesn't know. And I'm a garrison recruit. I can handle any information you tell me about the war—about this great empire."

Lance looked away.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to protect me." Veronica glanced at the cockpit. "From anything."

Lance would have to come up with a pretty good lie to explain why he was so uncomfortable with Lotor. He could explain that Lotor was a prince of the empire, that would do it. But Lance couldn't say that around Garrison soldiers.

"I know," Lance said. "And if I feel like queuing you in on his endless hair-care routine, I will."

"I doubt it stands a chance against yours," she laughed. "Speaking of—" she flicked his hair. "What's going on here?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "Short hair isn't really a thing. Every other rebel I know has, like, war-torn long battle hair. You should see Keith's mullet! By now—"

Lance swallowed. He hadn't thought about Keith in a really, really long time. It was so much easier to put Keith out of his mind. After Lance discovered that Keith had been in galra captivity as long as he had, he had a severe breakdown. 

Keith was still on board Zarkon's ship. 

Veronica looked concerned. 

"I haven't seen him in a while," Lance explained numbly. 

"Do you miss him?" Veronica asked softly. 

Lance bit his lip. Lotor would beat Lance for admitting he missed Keith. 

"A little. We got split up," Lance droned.

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean... he left Voltron to join the Blades—they're a super specialized rebel group."

"I thought he was the red paladin?" 

"There was a shake up," Lance admitted.

He knew he was supposed to keep his paladin status a secret, or Zarkon would kill him. Did that apply to Veronica? Lance had pretty much been lying this whole trip, though. He said he came here on behalf of the coalition, and that was a lie. Currently, Lotor was wanted by the coalition. 

"Long story?" she guessed. 

"Yep."

"But you're still a paladin?" 

Lance smiled at her. 

"Okay, fine, you win," Veronica said. "I'll catch you up on the family. But, they'll also want to catch you up, so you'll have to hear about it over and over again." 

Lance closed his eyes. That sounded like _paradise_. 

When the shuttle stopped, they were at the beach by Lance's old house. Lance and Veronica stepped onto the sand. Veronica was decked out in her Garrison uniform, which just looked weird on her. Lance was wearing a gray and red armor suit similar to the ones Lotor and his generals wore, so, he might've won the contest for _best dressed_. Lotor emerged with his helmet on and blacked out. 

"Are you trying to scare my family?" Lance accused him. 

"I'm hoping to ease them in," Lotor offered. 

"Well he doesn't..." Veronica pursed her lips. "He doesn't have to come, right? Why does our family need to meet him?"

Lance blushed. "I—"

"Oh, right," Veronica slapped her forehead. "I totally forgot, the first time I saw my brother in two years he was kissing a _giant purple dude on a beach_."

Lance blushed. 

"So he's, what?" Veronica looked him up and down. "You're introducing him to the family?"

"Well, I thought it would be nice," Lance mumbled. 

"No, it's fine—it's just... weird."

"It's not, though," Lance complained. "The whole universe is just aliens and aliens and aliens. Humans are the isolated ones. The world is going to change, Veronica. Our family gets a head start."

"Lance," Lotor whispered again. "If you think it's best, I can wait at the Garrison. I would happily equip your home with defense technology while you catch up."

"No." Lance couldn't let Lotor out of his sight. If Lotor left for too long, would Lance even want to go back? What would Lotor do o his family to find him? Lance tugged at the bracelets on his wrists. Oh, that's why Lotor was so calm about letting Lance out of his sight. He could find him at any second. "I want you to come."

Lotor nodded; Lance knew he was smiling.

"Okay, then," Veronica said. "Maybe the helmet is a good idea." 

The Garrison troops stationed themselves on the road leading to Lance's house. Lance couldn't tell if they were trapping them in or keeping people out. He figured both were a possibility. 

When they were out of earshot, Lance asked, "Where do you think the Sincline ship is?"

"I see that they've moved it to a facility in that Texas place, close to the Garrison," Lotor read off his wristband. 

Lance glanced at the red dot on Lotor's map. Was that Lance's bracelets or Lotor's wrist tracker? 

"What are you worried about?" Veronica asked.

Lance pointed at Veronica. Lotor looked at her for a few second and said, "She's not bugged or wired."

"Guys, what is going on?" Veronica demanded.

"Veronica, I get that you have to tell the Garrison whatever they ask, but I'm not trusting them entirely yet. They have been very aggressive and I'm worried about what they'll do. They aren't allowed to detain us here. They are allowed to tell us we can't land or be on this planet, but they can't hold us against our will. What happens when Lotor and I decide it's time to leave? What happens if they want to keep the ship—and him—instead?"

"But didn't you promise to provide information?" Veronica asked. 

"Yes, and we will," Lance swore. " _Willingly_."

"I think you're overreacting."

"They strapped Shiro to a table," Lance reminded her. "I'm not giving them Lotor. Oh, look we're here."

They rounded the last bend and found themselves standing in front of their old home. The place looked different from when Lance had left just a few hours ago. The driveway was filled with cars. The windows were all drawn wide open and the door was open. He could see several bodies inside furiously cleaning the tables and beating the curtains. His mother was hanging pictures back on the wall. 

"Mom..." Lance gasped.

He tried to walk forward but he feet wouldn't move. His mouth felt dry. Lance hugged his arms to his chest and took deep breaths. 

Veronica wrapped her arm around his shoulders and helped him walk forward. Lotor trailed behind them, keeping a respectful distance. 

Lance's nephew Silvio was the first to see him. "Uncle Lance!"

Every body in the house stopped moving and looked out the door. That's when all hell broke loose. 

Lance was suddenly swarmed with bodies—all coming at different angled. Lotor tensed behind him, but he didn't move. Lance still felt frozen. Then he saw the look of Silvio and Nadia's faces when he sat still. They looked heartbroken that he didn't want to see them. Lance couldn't explain to them that there was more going on; they were too young.

That snapped Lance out of it. Lance dove for the two kids. their faces brightened up instantly. Lance grabbed both of them and held tight while the rest of the family converged around him. Lance was trapped in a cage of uncomfortably crushed limbs. Eventually, his mom pried away all of the arms. She tugged Silvio and Nadia out of his arms and passed them of to their parents. Lance wrapped his arms around her and felt pop-pop's hands resting on his back. 

"That's our mother," Lance heard Veronica explain. 

In a few simple words, the family all looked to Lotor. Lotor was over eight feet tall and dressed in his armor.

"Who is your..." Marco hummed uncomfortably. "tall friend?"

"Um," Lance took a deep breath, pulling away from his mom's embrace. "This is Lotor. I think... I think you should take the kids inside."

Nadia was standing in front of Lotor. "You're tall."

Lotor bowed elegantly. "Why thank you, young lady."

"You talk funny," she noted. 

"Nadia," Luis called. "Step away honey, let's go inside."

Lotor held his hands up in surrender and crouched down by her. Lance was tempted to tell them all to leave, but Lotor was right. The kids were going to see him soon anyway. Lance watched Lotor talk to Nadia with his hear aching. He wondered what Lotor's daughter was like.

Was she smart? Did she have white hair? 

"How much did the Garrison tell you?" Lance asked in a hushed tone.

"That my baby was home," his mother managed to say through tears. "That we'd be taken somewhere else to see him. Nothing more."

Lance pursed his lips. "I think we should all go inside."

*** * * * ***

Lance's family stared at him. About halfway through his story, all questions stopped. They listened eagerly while Lance gave them some of the finer details. He told them very briefly about the lions and Voltron—about portals and why he couldn't come home. He told them about the empire, the evil organization expanding across the universe. Then, he also told them about the coalition—about how they had taken over one-third of Zarkon's former territory in the past few years. 

"We finally had the opportunity to come home so..." Lance looked back at Lotor. "We took it."

They sat in silence for an uncomfortable period of time. 

"So who exactly is sitting in the corner?" Rachel asked.

"That's Lotor," Lance answered simply. He wanted to introduce Lotor as a friend and ally, then he would ease his family into the truth about their relationship.

Veronica threw her hands in the air. "He Lance's alien boyfriend!"

Lance glared at her. "Wow, thanks for letting me do it."

"Do what? You weren't doing anything."

"I'm sorry, but I think I just dropped a pretty big bomb on everyone as it is, so—"

"Don't you two start," Rachel scoffed.

Lance put his head in his hands. "Okay, let's just... what do you guys need to know?"

"Where's the other kids?" His mom asked. "Your friends? Hunk and Pidge?"

"Still with Voltron," Lance assured them. "They didn't... Lotor's ships are..."

Lotor saved him. "They didn't come."

The family looked at him. 

"How long have you two been together?" Pop-pop asked. 

"A little over a deca-phoebe," Lotor answered.

Pop-pop raised his eyebrows at Lance. "A what?"

Lance grimaced. "It's a... it's a little over a year. But even with that... Time is a little different in space. For instance, more time has passed for me travelling than it has here on Earth."

"How much more time?" Veronica asked. "You never said."

Lance looked at the floor. "Later, okay?"

"Lance?" his mother's voice was terrified. 

"I'm fine," he promised. "Any other questions or... or even some stories, you know? I've missed you guys too."

Lance sat down. His suit was clunky and took up a lot of space. He eyes the latches on his armor. 

"Do those suits not come off?" Rachel asked, her voice dry. 

"They do," Lance said. "I know you gave my room to the kids so, is there anywhere where I can...?"

"You can my room," Veronica offered. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"You don't have to—"

"I don't think your friend will fit."

Lance stopped. "Okay that's a good point."

Lotor laughed. The family glanced between Lotor and Lance. 

"So you've been with this man over a year?" Pop-pop asked angrily. "When you were _seventeen_?"

 _Yes,_ Lance thought. "Well, no. Because it's been longer for me. I wasn't seventeen when we met."

Lance could feel Lotor tensing up behind him. He could also feel his family's burning desire to ask: _how old are you now?_ Lance put a lot of thought into creating this lie. He knew it would hurt them to think he'd been gone so long, but it would also hide the truth about how he and Lotor met. Lance didn't have a problem with how young he was. Not even Lotor did. But his family might. Now that he was here, he couldn't bring himself to lie. He wanted to tell the truth. 

_I am a paladin of Voltron. I flirted with the prince of the Galra Empire and he kidnapped me. He held me against my will and is holding Keith hostage. And I love him too much to leave._

"Well," Pop-pop moved on, picking up on Lance's discomfort. "Does the helmet come off?" 

Lance looked back at Lotor. Lotor stood cautiously, turning off the screen that concealed his face. When Lotor removed his helmet, he tucked it under his arm. White hair tumbled over his shoulders, his face was calm. 

Lotor bowed respectfully. "It's an honor to meet you all."

Lance blushed a little bit. When Lance turned, his whole family was staring at Lotor. Some looked shocked; other, appalled. Lance suddenly felt ashamed. 

"I—" Lance faltered. "Give them time, they've never seen anyone who wasn't human."

"It's okay, Lance," Lotor promised. "You're family can take as long as they need."

"Yeah, guys," Veronica scolded. "Don't be rude." 

His family shuffled uncomfortably. Lance gave Veronica a grateful look. 

"I should put the kids to bed," Luis mumbled. 

It hurt to watch his brother leave. Lance didn't know what his brother was thinking. Lance slumped. He felt Lotor's hand comfortably on his back—which might not be helping right now. 

"I think we should go to bed, too. It's late in galactic-space hours," Lance mumbled, completely disheartened. 

"Perhaps I should leave," Lotor offered.

"No, that's not necessary!" Veronica insisted. "Guys, come on! What has gotten into all you? Lance comes home and yes, it's shocking, no, it's not what we thought would happen! But he's home! And thank god he found someone in space to keep him company—"

"Veronica," their mother interrupted. "We're in shock. And Lotor, it's not about you. I am sorry, if you two feel we are judging and we are not. But until this morning, my son was a sixteen year old boy who went missing from the garrison."

Lance put his head in his hands. 

"We've had a long journey to get here," Lotor explained softly. "Then we had to deal with the Garrison and their rigorous questioning. It's a lot to deal with."

"Then let's all turn in for the night," Lance's mother suggested. "We can speak in the morning? How long with the Garrison let us see you?"

"A week," Veronica answered. "We have a week before they go to the Garrison to work."

"But we can still see Lance?" Rachel asked hopefully. 

Lance shrugged. "Most likely." 

"Okay," Lance's mother stood. "I'll set you up in... I suppose you will both be staying together?"

"Unless one of you wants to share a bed with an eight-foot-tall radiator," Lance offered. 

His mother smiled at him for the first time in almost two years. Lance hugged her again. He felt Veronica drape herself dramatically over his back. She snickered into his neck. 

Lance brushed them both off and followed gestured for Lotor to follow. They set up the bedroom to sleep and Lance laid down for a couple of hours. 

*** * * * ***

When Lance woke up, he was alone. He left the room without his shoes or armor, but he armed himself with the altean broadsword. he stepped outside with the hilt gripped in his hand. It was almost midnight, but his entire family was still awake in the living room. 

Lotor was with them, his armor off. His family was staring at him. Lance awkwardly put the sword down, hooking it onto his belt. 

"What's going on here."

"Lotor was just helping us clean the place up," Veronica explained. "We couldn't sleep."

"Did you rest well, Lance?" Lotor asked. 

"I don't know. But..." Lance thought about it. "I didn't rest _poorly,_ so, that's a first in a while." 

"That's... _nice_ , honey," his mother said. 

Lance wanted to reassure her that everything was fine, but Veronica's face was smug. 

"...what?" Lance groaned. 

"Lotor's been talking about you," Veronica snickered. 

Lance gasped. "Marco, what' she talking about?"

"I'm so sorry man, I couldn't stop it from happening."

"Couldn't stop what?" Lance looked at Lotor, who looked very confused by the turn of events. "What do _you_ think has been going on here?"

Veronica laughed. 

Lotor blushed, suddenly realizing that something had been going on; that the humans were tricking him. "You—" he pointed at Veronica. "You betrayed my trust."

Veronica laughed. "He's been talking about you. We just _begged_ to hear stories and Lotor was _oh, so happy_ to oblige."

Lance felt his soul die a little. "Stories?" he croaked. 

"I'm sorry man, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemies—" Marco clasped Lance's shoulder.

Before he could think, Lance drew his sword. A long, white altean broadsword sprang from the hilt. The blade's tip collided with the coffee table and broke it in half. Marco backed away from Lance until he hit the wall. He stayed flattened against the wall, holding his hand to his chest—the hand that he touched Lance with. His breathing was heavy and his eyes wide. 

Lance felt Lotor's hands on his shoulder. Lotor guided the sword away from the table—eventually prying it from his grasp. Lotor pulled the sword into it's hilt and tucked the weapon onto his own belt. 

He was taking Lance's weapon away from him. 

"It's okay," Lotor whispered into his ear, so quiet even his family wouldn't be able to hear. "Deep breaths." 

"I'm sorry, Marco," Lance gasped breathlessly. "I don't know..."

Lotor pressed his lips to Lance's temple. "Deep breaths."

Lance closed his eyes. "I've never done that before."

No one moved. 

Lance pushed Lotor away and headed outside. "I'm going to—I'm going to go for a walk. Don't... no one follow me."

Lance left immediately. He closed the front door behind him. He found himself standing alone on the porch in the warm air. 

He heard Lotor's voice from inside: "He cannot be alone right now, I should—"

"I'll go," Veronica volunteered. 

Lance stepped away from the door before she got there. He paced down the driveway. She had to run to catch up. When she put her hand on his shoulder, Lance smacked it away. 

"Lance, _it's okay_."

"No, it's not," Lance sobbed. "I've never done that before. _Never_. I don't _know_ what that was! I'm so _embarrassed_!"

"Lance," Veronica put both of her hand on his shoulders and turner him to face her, exactly like Lotor always did. Something about the act calmed him. "Lotor told us you hadn't seen combat in a while. Did something happen?"

"He said that?" Lance seethed.

Veronica looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. It was funny at first, getting him to talk about you. We won't do it again."

"Doesn't matter," Lance told her. "Lotor doesn't get fooled twice."

"Lance," Veronica squeezed his shoulders. "We were told by some... experts, that you might be different if we got you back, when we got you back. We knew the situation might not be great, even though I couldn't tell our family about the _aliens_... we knew it would be bad."

"What are you talking about?" Lance asked.

Veronica's eyes softened. "You've been through a lot, we can all see it. I know you think you're hiding it well and maybe... maybe you didn't even know until now but..."

Lance waited for her to continue. 

"We knew that when we got you home, being home might _trigger_ certain things. You're back in a place that has been a _safe place_ in your mind for so long, but now your safe place is colliding with the reality of what's happened to you and... and you're still in _survival mode_ , Lance."

"Survival mode," he repeated numbly. 

"Yeah, Lance. You're fighting to survive in a situation that doesn't exist anymore."

"There's no situation."

"Lance..." Veronica sighed. "You don't have to talk about it. You don't have to tell me. But whatever happened—whatever made you leave active duty and whatever made Lotor so protective of you... you can talk about ti whenever you want. And I can't promise that I'll understand, but, _by god_ , Lance, I will listen."

Lance pushed her hands away. "I got captured and taken to the galra by someone... I trusted. Keith too, but Keith didn't escape. He's still with them."

"Oh, Lance." Veronica pulled him into a hug. 

"I thought I was okay. It's not as bad as it was before—it's not like it used to be."

"It's not like..." Veronica's eyes scrunched. "You mean your condition?"

Lance paled. No, I meant with Lotor. "I only meant... Veronica I _wish_ I could tell you but I _can't_. I just can't. There are things that you can never know."

Veronica didn't look like she understood what he was saying, but she made good on her promise. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I just don't want you guys to look down on me," Lance admitted. "I've been through so much and I am so capable... I can fight and pilot and... I've learned languages and well, _Lotor_."

"We don't expect you to be the same."

"But I'm not _weak_ either."

Veronica frowned. "We know."

Lance sat down on the road. "God, sometimes, Lotor makes me feel so weak."

Veronica looked at the house, joining him on the gravel. "He seems very strong and capable. But I'm sure he doesn't see you as weak, Lance."

Lance sighed. "He doesn't. He just gets so protective."

"He's worried about you." 

Veronica laid down next to him. After a great while, she asked. "Have you had sex?"

Lance opened his eyes, giving her a disgusted look. 

"I have."

"Why are you telling me this?" Lance asked. If she was trying to distract him. It was working. 

"Because we tell each other everything. And... we missed this chapter in our lives," she whispered. "I think we both hit a milestone and didn't get to talk about it with each other."

Lance pondered that. "Well, yeah. We've been together for a while."

"How old are you?" 

Lance paused. He _had_ to make this normal. He _had_ to lie. 

"Are you ready to be mad?"

Veronica frowned. " _No_."

"We were three years apart," Veronica said, like it would make a difference. 

"Oh, don't worry," Lance smirked. "We still are."

Veronica did the math and growled. "You're twenty-four?"

Lance splayed his hands. "Well, little sis—"

"No, stop." Veronica looked genuinely hurt. 

Lance waited for her to speak.

"Eight years?" She she sobbed. You've been at war for eight years?"

Lance looked away. It was a lie that would hurt them, but it would be less painful than the truth. 

"Don't tell mom," he mumbled. 

"Yeah, no kidding."

"We should go back inside," Lance said. 

"Why?" Veronica whined. 

"Because we're laying in the dirt?" 

"Ugh, fine." 

When they went back inside, Lance tried not to look to embarrassed. Everyone but the kids were still in the living room. 

"Sup, guys," Lance waved.

"You look filthy," Rachel scoffed. 

"Love you too," Lance laughed, so glad that they were treating him normally. "I think I'll shower and go back to bed."

Lotor smiled. "I was going to turn in now. You'll meet me?"

Lance nodded. "I'll try not to wake you up."

Lotor approached him. "Well, don't stress about it—" Lotor grabbed Lance by both of his cheeks and kissed him on the lips. "In case you want to talk."

"Okay," Lance's voice was small.

Lotor closed the door to Veronica's room. Lance looked at his family. 

"I did not think he would do that in front of you guys."

"Are we allowed to make fun of him yet?" Luis asked, elbowing Marco. 

Marco didn't look up. 

Lance felt like crying. He attacked his own brother!

"Okay," Lance announced. "Showering now."

* * * * *

There was something about showering in crappy water pressure with fluctuating temperatures that put Lance's mind at ease. Lance left the bathroom. the lights were off int the living room, so supposedly his family went to sleep. 

When Lance grew closer to the living room, he heard his family talking. Lance crept closer to the living room, crouching to the floor and listening to them talk. 

"—that's not normal!" Marco hissed.

Lance whimpered. He would really have to apologize to his brother.

"I know, you think we don't all see it, too?" Lance's mother said. Lance froze, his jaw dropping open. 

Marco being afraid of him hurt enough as it was, but not his _mom_. 

"But are we sure?" Lisa asked. "We have to be very careful. What did you say Veronica?"

"Lotor's technology is more powerful than anything on Earth. Turned against us all, there's nothing we can do to stop him."

Lance bit his fist, fighting back tears. Veronica was in on this, too? He thought she, _of all people_ , would stand up for him. 

"You should've seen it up close," Marco whispered. "Lotor was practically restraining him—he was grabbing Lance _so tight_."

"We have to be certain," Pop-pop said. "We can't break Lance's heart. With the condition he's in... he's so afraid that we won't accept Lotor. What if we're wrong? What if we lose him?"

Everyone fell silent. Lance frowned. He didn't know what pop-pop was saying. 

"We _are_ certain," Veronica seethed. "You didn't see him like I did. You should have seen what he was like when I followed him outside. He said 'it wasn't as bad as it was before' and... I got the feeling he was talking about _something else_."

"But why come here?" his mother asked. "Why would Lotor risk it? Even id he has ordered Lance to lie or play nice... what does he have to gain?"

" _Lance_ ," Veronica answered. "Lotor is infatuated with him. We all saw that for ourselves. But when we spoke, Lotor made it sound like, like somehow, bringing Lance here would make Lance love him."

"But we can't be sure," Marco explained. "Maybe Lotor is just being careful so Lance doesn't have a PTSD meltdown and kill us with his space sword."

"No," Lance's mother whispered. "Marco, I know you want to believe that, but I think Veronica is right."

"I mean," Lisa spoke up again. "Did you hear Lotor earlier? I gave him this, I let him do this, I allowed this, I thought it would be best if... what has Lance decided for himself?"

"Guys, the shower hasn't been running for a while," Luis whispered. "I think we should all go to bed and act normal until we know more."

Lance caught his breath. They could not know that he overheard any of this. No matter what—it would lead them too close to the truth. 

"Oh, let Lance do his dumb skin-care routine, we're _fine_."

Lance backed away as quietly as possible. He would go back to the bathroom and open the door as loudly as he could before shutting it behind him. They would disband and he would go to bed like nothing had happened. He just had to—

Lance stifled a yelp. He bumped into someone directly behind him. He whipped around, finding himself face-to-face with his older sister Rachel. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights. He and Rachel stared at each other. He was in shock, unable to think or act in any way—his eyes were filled with tears. She was standing silently in front of him. He didn't know how long she'd been standing there. It was probably safe to assume she'd seen him eavesdropping. 

Lance should reassure her—he should promise her that Lotor made him happy. He should roll with the lie and promise he was being treated well. 

But Lance couldn't move. He slowly broke out of his haze. If he couldn't lie, and he couldn't tell the truth, then he would do neither. Lance opened the bathroom door as loudly as he could and shut it. When he made eye contact with Rachel again, her face transformed into one of shock to rage... to steely calm and determination. 

Lance turned towards the living room and found Veronica alone on the couch, feigning sleep. The blanket was thrown carelessly over her and barely covered her lower half, like she'd thrown it on top of herself. Everyone else was gone. 

Lance leaned over her, fixing the blanket. She kept her eyes closed. He kissed her forehead.

"I know I promised to tell you everything," Lance whispered.

She didn't pretend to wake up, but he knew she could hear him. Lance tried so hard to say the words, _you're all in danger,_ but he couldn't. Then he realized why. he realized why Lotor had been so comfortable this whole trip—why he was suddenly fine with leaving Lance un-supervised.

There were listening devices in the bracelets. 

Lance returned to Veronica's room, shutting the door as quietly as he could. Lotor was sleeping on the floor, his body an entire foot larger than the bed. Lance knelt by Lotor and listened to his breathing. 

Thank god, Lotor was actually asleep. There's no way he heard Lance's family talking earlier. Maybe Lotor would review the audio logs from Lance's bracelets someday, but not on this trip. 

Lance would have to stick with Lotor every second he could to make sure Lotor didn't review those files until after they were away from his family. After that... Lace would deal with the consequences on his own. 

Lance saw that Lotor had made a space for him to sleep on the floor right by him. there was an unused pillow on Lotor's right side, where Lance always slept. Lance wanted to climb into Veronica's bed and ignore Lotor for the rest of the night... but he couldn't. He couldn't let Lotor know something was wrong. He couldn't let Lotor wake up and find Lance away from him—he'd check the logs immediately to find out what was wrong. 

Lance laid down in the empty space. Lotor's arms instinctively wrapped around Lance, holding him tight in his sleep. Lance closed his eyes. He couldn't have Lotor wake up without him. 

Lance leaned in, kissing Lotor firmly on the mouth. Lotor kissed back lazily for a couple seconds before his eyes shot open. 

"Is something wrong?" Lotor asked. 

Lance closed his eyes, imitating bliss. "No, Lotor." He kissed him long and hard and _deep_. "Thank you."

Lotor smiled into the kiss.

Lance pulled away, burying his head into Lotor's chest. "Thank you for bringing me home."

Lance fell asleep in Lotor's arms, staring at the golden wrist bands in the dark. It took a long time for his eyes to adjust to see it, but they were glowing. 

They were glowing with quintessence. Tracking devices, listening devices... and Lotor hadn't given Lance a single thing to eat or drink since he put them on so they were also administering quintessence into Lance's bloodstream. 

Lance's eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep. In his dreams, his family was chained to a wall by their wrists—right next to Keith Kogane. 


	21. Betrayal

**Lotor**

* * *

Lotor woke with his arms wrapped tightly around Lance. Lance was sound asleep in his arms, curled into Lotor's chest. He was breathing in little puffs of air, like he always did when he was stressed. 

Lotor looked at the monitor on his wrist. So far, he and Lance had only been separated about three times. The first time was when Lance was taken away by the Garrison. The second time was on the ride to Cuba. The third time was when Lance freaked out and ran from the house. Lotor hadn't gotten an opportunity to review the audio from those times. 

Back on the ship, Lotor had to dim the lights every once in a while. Lance would get overstimulated by the endless mechanics of the galra ship, so Lotor always shut down the lights and sounds for him to calm down. If Lance freaked out, the only solution was to take him to the hospital. Only, there were no hospitals out here. Lotor had to monitor everything closely, for Lance's sake. 

Lotor tapped on his wristband, pulling out the earpiece hidden inside. He didn't want to wake Lance up. 

Lance stirred in his arms. Lotor tucked the earpiece into his wristband. 

Lance looked at the wrist band. His eyes widened as he pulled away from Lotor. "Danger?"

"No, no—" Lotor kissed his cheek. "You're safe, I promise." 

"Okay." Lance didn't relax. 

"How are you holding up?" Lotor asked. 

Lance sighed and leaned forward. He gave Lotor a light peck on the lips and laid back down. "I'm not doing as well as I'd hoped—but better than I thought."

"I agree," Lotor brushed his hair. "Perhaps we should try—"

Someone pounded on the door. For some reason, Lance didn't flinch, he just looked mildly annoyed. 

"Hey!" Someone shouted. "Breakfast is ready!"

Lotor glanced at Lance. "Is that...?"

"That's the family wake-up call," Lance sighed. He stood up and held out his hand. He helped Lotor stand. "Now let's get dressed, do our hair, and brush our teeth—we have less than five minutes. We already skipped out on helping _make_ breakfast, so I don't wanna be late." 

*** * * * ***

It wasn't as bad as Lance feared. Lance's family didn't mock them relentlessly or tease them for being late. Lance kept apologizing for not helping, but his family seemed unbothered. 

Something was wrong. 

Lotor never figured it out what was going on. Over the next few days, he learned to accept that humans were just odd. Lance stepped between Lotor and his family multiple times, acting as a mediator for conversations. Sometimes Lotor would say something about their relationship and Lance would change the subject abruptly. 

Then, Lotor remembered how Lance's family got Lotor to tell stories about Lance and talk about their relationship. Lance looked mortified when he found out. It seemed humans didn't talk about romantic relationships with other people. Lotor didn't bring it up again and things began to run much smoother. 

They woke up early every morning to help make breakfast. Lotor tried to convince Lance to spend time alone with his family while Lotor slept in, but Lance insisted Lotor make a good impression. So they were up before everyone. The smell of cooking bacon and eggs would prompt the others to rise from their beds and help make breakfast. When they were finished, Lance and his siblings would pound on the doors of those who slept in. Normally, Lance was more calm about it; except for the morning Veronica had slept in Rachel's room and didn't get up in the morning. Lotor had never seen Lance so happy as when he shook Veronica out of bed. 

They spent time with Lance's family and talked every day. Lance and Lotor kept their skills up, training in the field by Lance's house. No matter how many times they trained, there was an audience. Lance's family was either intrigued by their skills or worried for Lance's safety... So Lotor didn't push too hard. 

Lance's family spent days trying to get time alone with him. Lance laughed about it, claiming he was the "favorite" and they "all wanted their turn." It was sweet to watch. 

*** * * * ***

Lance was getting fidgety. He was trying harder than every to dodge certain topics. He was throwing himself into work around the house. Lotor asked him why he was working so hard, to which Lance replied, "I have two years of work to make up for."

Lance's family was growing more insistent that he rest; and Lotor agreed with them. As much as Lotor wanted to join their side and urge Lance to rest, Lotor didn't want Lance to feel gained up on. Clearly, Lance was avoiding being alone with his family. He spent every moment keeping Lotor by his side. Lotor realized Lance was using him as a shield. 

Lotor was starting to grow tired of it all. It would be one thing if this experience were calming Lance down—but it wasn't. It was stressing him out. 

Lotor sat on the porch, feeling the warm breeze of Lance's home on his face. Now he understood why Lance stopped so frequently in more temperate climates; he was nostalgic. 

Lotor didn't realize Lance wasn't with him. 

Lotor rose quickly. He scanned the field for Lance. The kids were playing a game in the field with their parents standing over them. Veronica was positioned between the kids and Lotor. Lotor wondered what kind of wild animals were in the woods. The adults were clearly guarding the children. 

But Marco, Rachel, Lance's mother, and Lance's Pop-pop were no where to be seen.

Lotor grabbed his sword and fastened it to his belt. Lance's sword was right by his weapon, but he wouldn't be giving it back to Lance anytime soon. Lotor thought Lance was ready to carry a weapon but, clearly, he wasn't. Lotor would give it anther try after they left Earth. Once they were away from Earth, maybe Lance would be capable of wielding with a focused mind. After all, Lotor would be a thousand times more comfortable if Lance could be armed all the time. Lotor dreaded the day the ship was attacked and Lance would be defenseless. They would get there someday. Even if it took years, they would get there. 

Lotor walked around the house. He noticed Veronica's eyes following him, but she was easily the most observant of them all—so he brushed it off. 

Lotor went in through the front door. No one was in the living room, but Lotor could hear voices on the back deck. Lotor approached the back door. Once he got close enough, he could hear Lance's mother. 

"I understand he's like this—brave warrior prince and all, but is he _kind_?" She asked. 

Lotor couldn't hear Lance's answer. 

"When a mother dreams of the man—of the _partner_ her son is going to marry," she explained. "Of all things, she wishes for him to be kind." 

"He's very passionate, mamma."

It took a long time for her to speak. "That isn't what I asked."

Lance laughed. "I just meant— _oh, never mind_."

Lotor thought it might be safe to back away now; pretend he never heard anything. But he was too curious. He wanted to know what Lance would say. Lance—always willing to speak his mind—wasn't one to lie to Lotor. But what did he _think_ of him? That was a nothing matter. 

"You look tired, my sweet boy."

Lance didn't say anything. 

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Lance's mother asked. 

Another pause. Lance was never this quiet. 

"You flinched."

Lance let out a nervous chuckle. It was a sound Lotor was very familiar with—he could practically hear Lance's shrug. 

"Why does everyone call me sweet? I'm a super dangerous rebellion fighter."

"Of course you are, my sweet."

Lance scoffed. 

"So..." His mother started. 

Lotor found himself leaning closer. If he could just look outside...

"How old is he?"

Lance's words were hesitant. " _Why do you want to know_...?

"Well, he speaks differently—"

"He's not exactly from around her, ma—"

"The stories he tells, then," she settled. "The way he speaks about his father... as if he's hundreds of years old."

"His species can... he doesn't age normally, no."

"So how old is he?"

"I'm not a kid, mamma."

"Why are you answering my questions?" Her voice was high pitched and stressed. He words shook as she spoke. 

"Hey," Lance said softly. "Hey, I'm here. I'm okay. I can't imagine how stressful it's been with me away... I just couldn't. Ma, it took us so long to find earth and I just couldn't—"

His mother's voice was muffled—like she was speaking into his chest or his jacket. Lotor couldn't understand what she was saying. 

"I already explained that," Lance answered. "I went through a portal that took me galaxies away. It would take the humans centuries to invent the technology to explore our galaxy. It would take centuries more for us to actually explore it... Do you have any idea how big the universe is? How big Zarkon's empire is? I couldn't come home."

"How old is he?" She asked again. 

"Old, mom."

His mother grunted. " _Lance._ "

"Mom he's not—it's not like I'm dating an old man. His species is just like that. He doesn't experience time the way humans do. He matures differently."

His mother was quiet. 

"He's maybe... I don't know. Thirty? Or forty? In human years."

"You're eighteen, Lance." 

"No... I'm not." 

Lotor frowned. Lotor thought Lance was seventeen when they met. They'd been together a little over year. He _was_ eighteen. 

"I've been travelling in space. I've orbited black holes and sailed across nebula's. I've jumped through worm holes. I'm twenty... twenty-four."

His mother gasped. "What? You look the same."

"I know—I know. Time dilation is wonderful for my complexion, don't you think?" 

"My baby... My sweet baby is twenty-four?"

"Yeah," Lance laughed. 

Lotor grimaced. Lance was lying. Why was he lying to his mother? Lance said that the humans engaged in relationships with each other around fourteen or fifteen—they could be married by eighteen. What was the problem?

"You're going back, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"This whole time... this wonderful week you've given me... I've felt like you've been saying goodbye."

"I am."

"Are you two engaged?"

Lance made a confused noise. "Yes and no, I guess? It's different in galra culture. Well, in royal families, mostly. Just by dating him I'm sort of promised to him until we break it off... and no one proposes. I have to sort of... _offer myself._ "

His mother was silent.

"Okay—" Lance hurried. "It sounds bad when I put it like that. Think like... I mean even with humans, you wither break up or your married so... what's the difference. And I suppose we do propose. The idea is that he proposes by dating me and I have to accept when I'm ready. Better?"

His mother didn't answer.

"Oh my god, please forget I said anything, then."

"Lance..." 

"It's really sweet, I promise."

"It sounds very romantic."

They stood together in silence. Lotor heard their clothes ruffle as they broke apart. "If you are going to be going back to war soon—" her voice was getting louder. "then let's make the most of the time we have."

Lotor panicked, scurrying away from the door like a child caught in the act. At last second, he turned around and pretended to enter the room. Lance's eyes were wet and red, which was strange, because his voice sounded so normal. 

"Lance?" Lotor kept his voice soft and visibly concerned. 

"Hey, so I was—" 

Lance stopped talking when Lotor hugged him. He kept the hug gentle and barely there—even though Lance was more comfortable when Lotor held him tight. Lotor needed Lance's mother to trust him. 

He whispered in Lance's ear—loud enough for his mother to hear. "Everything alright? You wanna take a walk? Get some space?"

Lance relaxed, folding his body into Lotor's. His muscles had been so tense, Lotor couldn't believe he didn't notice. Lotor realized Lance wanted his mother to like Lotor, just as badly. Lance didn't want his mother to think of him as some _damsel in distress_ any more than Team Voltron. Lotor kissed his forehead, holding him there for as long as Lance wanted. When Lance pulled away, Lotor gave him one firm squeeze before allowing him to pull away. 

*** * * * ***

That night, in the dark guest bedroom, Lotor decided to ask Lance about his conversation with his mother. 

Lotor wrapped his arm around Lance's waist and pulled him closer. Lance made a small discontented noise but obeyed. Lotor settled him against his chest and combed his fingers through Lance's hair. He leaned down to whisper in Lance's ear. 

"Are you to young for me, my sweet Lance?"

Lance was quiet for a long time before saying, "No."

"No?"

Lance looked up, his blue eyes earnest. "No, I don't think so." 

"You don't think so... you're family thinks so?"

Lance buried his face in Lotor's chest. "I'm the youngest of all my siblings, Lotor. They will always think I'm too young, no matter how old I am. But I am old enough to make my own decisions."

Lance sat up. Lotor followed him and wrapped the blanket tightly around Lance. 

"My mom was eighteen when she married. She had her first child a year later. She didn't get pregnant then married—no, she married my dad and they have been very happy together."

"So she'll understand?"

"Well," Lance bit his lip. "It's different. Two eighteen-year-olds marrying each other. You're over ten-thousand years old, Lotor."

"And never, in all that time, have I waned to marry. I've never met anyone like you. I've never loved anyone like you—"

Lance pressed his index finger to Lotor's lips. "And I know all of that." 

Lotor grabbed Lance's wrist, gently prying his hand off this lips. He didn't like being silenced like that. He kissed the inside of Lance's palm. Lance scooted forward, practically climbing into Lotor's lap. 

"It's just... different," Lance admitted. "I can't explain it—and I hate it, but it's true."

Lotor thought long and hard about what to say. "So, you've always been a rebel, then?"

Lance laughed. 

Lotor leaned forward and kissed Lance. The kiss was gentle and sweet, with only their knees and lips touching. Lotor pushed more, his stomach flipping as Lance leaned in with equal force. Lotor sucked Lance's bottom lip into his mouth. Lance moaned—quickly stifling himself so they wouldn't be heard in this house with thin walls. 

Lotor realized that he wanted Lance; right there, right then. He wanted to be with Lance and love him in every possible way in this home where he was raised. In a way, this part of Lance's life will always be out of Lotor's reach. Where Lance was from and how he was raised will always be out of Lotor's power to control. But _here_ he had a chance to take control of this part of Lance's life. If Lance's family thought Lance was too young to be with Lotor, then Lotor would be with Lance under their own roof. 

Lotor leaned in, pressing his tongue into Lance's mouth. They rose off their knees at once, falling together with the hard press of their bodies. Lotor spun Lance around, laying him down on the floor. It had been a week since they last touched each other so intimately, and Lotor was starving for him.

When Lotor opened his eyes, Lance's were wide and alert. He shook his head so faintly Lotor barely saw. 

"No, Lotor," Lance said, his voice a little too loud—so he could appear strong and firm. "Not tonight."

Lotor shushed him, pressing a finger to Lance's lips. He drew his face up by his chin and their lips met. Lance's lips followed his in a reluctant dance. Lotor kissed Lance's neck, his hand travelling to Lance's waist and prying up his shirt. 

"No," Lance whispered. "No, no, _no_..." Lance was starting to panic. He was getting louder. They could not afford for Lance to have one of his freak outs right now. "Not here. I mean it, Lotor. _Stop_ —"

Lotor covered Lance's mouth, desperate for him to quiet down before his family heard what they _might_ interpret as a bad conversation. Lotor held his entire hand over his mouth and pushed Lance's head into the ground until he went still. 

"There you go," Lotor whispered into Lance's ear. "Just like our first time, huh?" 

Lance sobbed, shaking his head hysterically. His body strained against Lotor's his mind falling into panic mode. Lotor ran his free hand over Lance's skin, reveling in the delicious movement of his tense muscles.

Lance grew very still, very fast. He gave a single panicked shake of his head and then fell limp in Lotor's hold. Lotor heard a door shut.

Lotor looked up, but Lance's room door hadn't moved. One of Lance's family must've gone to bed late. 

Lotor looked down. Lance looked terrified. 

Lotor sighed. "I love you, you know that?" 

Lance nodded, a tear spilling down his cheek. 

"I don't want you to freak out right now, okay? Not in front of your family. So I'm going to remove my hand, and I'm going to hold you in my arms, and we're going to go to bed."

Lance nodded. Lotor removed his hand and took Lance's place on the floor. He let Lance rest on top of him, like a firm mattress. Lance gave him one grateful kiss before settling down and falling asleep. 

*** * * * ***

This time, Lotor was the first to rise. Lance's body was rigid. His arms were crossed over his chest. He was sweating from the effort of sleeping so tense. Lotor pulled Lance's arms away. When lance woke up, he was startled and panicked. He soon calmed down enough to relax his muscles. 

"I would have let you sleep," Lotor said. "But I know how important it is that you hep with breakfast... And today is our last day before returning to the Garrison."

"Right," Lance's voice cracked. "Thank you."

The rest of Lance's family was tense. Lotor expected them to be saying goodbye, but they were avoiding the topic all together. They kept glancing at each other without speaking. 

Humans were definitely weird. 

" _So_ ," Lisa approached Lotor. Everyone in the house grew silent. "Luis has taken the kids to the beach for day—they've been going crazy all cooped up in the house. He said he was fine to take them alone... but I think it would be really nice if you could spend some time with them, too."

Lotor frowned. "Me?"

Lisa smiled. "Sorry, you don't have to... My kids just love the big alien guy that Lance brought home and I want them to like you."

Lotor looked over at Lance. He didn't know what to do. In a way, he was honored that she wanted him to be close with her children. He'd seen how protective this family was with those kids. 

Lance was looking outside. "It looks like there's going to be weather today. Are you really sure that the kids should be—"

Veronica smacked him. Lance yelped, throwing her a rude look. 

"Isn't it so nice that Lotor gets to spend time with the kids?" Veronica asked suggestively. 

Lance shook his head. "I don't think—"

Marco smacked his arm. 

"Ow!" Lance complained. "Will everyone stop hitting me?"

"I think your family is suggesting we go to the beach," Lotor told him. 

"Um, not everyone," Lisa explained. "Just you. And maybe Veronica to stand guard."

"Well I was going to join them after breakfast anyway," Veronica shrugged. "I think Lotor and I could squeeze in some bonding time."

Lotor frowned. He didn't want to be apart from Lance. He knew Lance didn't want to be apart from him. As honored as he felt being trusted with the kids, Lotor needed Lance to be his top priority. 

"Why just me?" Lotor asked slowly. "I thought Lance loved the beach."

Everyone fell silent. Lance bit his lip, his eyes darting around his family members. "Guys, I think it's a little too soon."

Lotor leaned forward. "Lance, what's going on? You promised to explain weird human things to me."

Lance met his mother's eyes. "Just this... she's asking you to watch over them without me because... it's like being a member of the family—for humans, I mean. Which is _highly inappropriate_ because we are not married—"

"I think it's sweet," Rachel pointed out.

"No," Lance insisted. "We're not engaged, either."

"Oh, like hell you aren't," Marco scoffed.

Lance glared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"No way did you fly halfway across the universe on a Tuesday to introduce us to your _boyfriend._ Obviously, you came her for mom's permission."

Lotor glanced at Lance. "Is that true?"

Lance blushed, looking at the table. "Okay, everyone stop. This is a bad idea."

"Well what other opportunity are we going to get?" Lisa asked. "You are both going back to the Garrison tonight. After that, there's a war to fight." 

Lotor smirked. "I never thought Lance was such a stickler for tradition."

"I'm— _I'm not_ , but..." he glared at his family. "It's a bad idea."

"Why?" Lotor challenged. 

Lance paled. 

"Why don't you spend this time with your mother," Lotor suggested. He had no idea human's needed permission to marry. Lance never talked about it. But, then again, Lance didn't think he'd ever see his family again. Now, maybe he wanted permission from his mother to marry. "It'll be a good chance to... do whatever you have to do."

Everyone in the room relaxed.

Lotor turned to Veronica. "When do we leave?"

Veronica looked at her mother. "As soon as we're ready. The sooner the better."

Lotor said a hasty goodbye to Lance and followed Veronica to the beach where Luis and the kids were waiting. While they were walking, Lotor started to worry about Lance. Lance looked so nervous about being left alone with his mother. 

If Lance freaked out, would Lance's mother give them permission? How would Lotor ever convince Lance to give his Consent after that. A part of Lotor was comforted by the fact that he'd already caught Lance and his mother discussing marriage once. Maybe giving them some alone time was exactly what they needed. 

But could Lance handle it? Lotor wasn't sure. 

When Veronica wasn't looking, Lotor took the earpiece out of his wrist tracker and put it in his ear. She wouldn't be able to tell he was listening.

He listened to Lance discuss things with the Garrison officers. Lance was quite impressive. He held his ground and to talked circles around them until they gave him what he wanted; like a true prince. Lotor smiled. He continued listening. He heard his own voice speaking with Veronica. Lance was listening to them for a long time before he came in. Lotor thought Lance just walked in when he got there. This was different. This changed things... Lotor just didn't know how. 

"What's wrong?" Veronica asked.

Lotor didn't know he was making a face. He looked around. They arrived at the beach. 

"Where are the children?"

Veronica bit her lip. "Probably north of here, they like to play on the rocks."

Lotor nodded, following her north. Lotor didn't see the kids anywhere. 

"Why are humans so protective of children?" Lotor asked. "Lance always gave me the impression that Earth was a peaceful place."

"Well," Veronica cleared her throat. "It is... but it's also a really diverse place. 

"I noticed... your planet is tilted in a way that gives it very harsh seasons. Also your orbit wobbles."

"Yeah, we know," Veronica sighed. 

Lotor smiled. He was impressed with how adaptable humans were. They would have to be to survive on this planet.

"Why does this diversity mean you have to protect the children?" Lotor steered them back to the topic. 

"Oh, right," Veronica didn't sound thrilled. "There's some local wildlife here that we like to protect them from."

"Then..." Lotor stopped. 

He was listening to the conversation Lance had with Veronica on the transport. 

_"... You know you can tell me anything, right...?"_

Lotor shook his head. "Sorry, just distracted. Why was it save for Luis to take the kids to the beach alone?"

Veronica waited before answering. "Movement is much safer. they can come alone because it's such a long walk. We just don't want predators to surround them so we tend to double-up on adult supervisors as time goes on."

"Oh," Lotor nodded. The predators must be pack hunters, the kind that like to trap their prey. "Sorry about all the questions."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure Earth is a very curious place."

Lotor smiled. "More so than other planets. I've been to other planets; they're predictable. But... Maybe I'm just more invested in understanding this one as it is Lance's home."

"Right."

Lotor stopped. He could've sworn he'd just heard Keith's name. Lance never talked about Keith... it always set him off. Lance just couldn't live with the idea that his friend was locked up. Also... there was a history between the two of them that Lotor didn't understand. 

_"...Do you miss him...?"_

Lotor waited for Lance to answer, his heart beating frantically. 

Veronica stopped and stood in front of him. "Is everything okay?"

She couldn't see the earpiece; she didn't know he was listening to their old conversations. Lotor looked out at the beach. 

"This isn't the same as the beach I took Lance to when we first landed."

"We have more than one beach on this planet."

"No, I meant..." Lotor felt the sand wiping across his face in the harsh, cold wind. "Lance mentioned the weather. Is this safe?"

Veronica turned away. "Of course it is."

Loud sounds roared above them. Something flashed across the sky. Moments later, Lotor heard a loud mechanical whirling sound roll across the sky. 

Lotor drew his weapon. 

"Whoa," Veronica drew her gun, aiming it right at Lotor. "What are you doing?"

"Is that not an enemy ship?"

"No, it's—it's just _thunder_ ," Veronica laughed. 

Lotor put his weapon down slowly. Veronica held hers up for a few more moments, like she was pondering whether or not to fire. Then, slowly, she set it down. 

Strange.

"Is it safe?" Lotor asked.

"As long as it doesn't hit you."

_"... I got captured and taken to the galra by someone... I trusted..."_

Lotor's heart stopped.

"Don't worry!" Veronica promised. "It doesn't hit people that often."

Lotor stared at her. She drew her weapon on him pretty quickly. That might have been his fault, for drawing it at the sound of something she deemed harmless, but she didn't set it down in a hurry, either. 

Before they left the house, Lance mentioned the weather. He talked about it like it wasn't safe for the kids. 

"Why did the kids come out here so early?" Lotor asked calmly. "I never saw them leave."

_"... Veronica I wish I could tell you but I can't..."_

Veronica looked away. "Kids are little balls of energy. They always wake up before us. It's a little draining on the parents, but humans kids just don't sleep as much."

_"... I just can't..."_

Lotor hardened his jaw. "But you put them down for naps everyday. They go to bed earlier than the rest of you."

_"... There are things that you can never know..."_

Veronica looked terrified of him. Her feet were planted apart. The hand closest to her weapon twitched. "Okay, they don't sleep as _long_ , but they definitely sleep _more_."

_"...God, sometimes, Lotor makes me feel so weak..."_

She was lying. They all were lying. The family was separating Lance and Lotor. The kids weren't on this beach; they never were. Veronica was leading Lotor away from the house. 

But why? Why would Lance allow it? Perhaps Lance didn't know. He talked about the human tradition of watching someone else's children being rushed. What if Lance's family rushed them along this process to get Lance alone?

Lotor clicked a couple buttons on his wrist monitor. He scanned the recording to collect the data from Veronica's voice. He looked through all occurrences. 

"What are you doing?" Veronica panicked.

Lotor glared at her. He returned his attention to the monitor. Based on the time stamps, Lotor was in the room for all of these... except one. The first night, when Lotor was asleep. 

He played the recording. 

_"...Lotor's technology is more powerful than anything on Earth. Turned against us all, there's nothing we can do to stop him..."_

Lotor looked back at the house. He needed to get to Lance now. Behind him, a gun whirled. Veronica had drawn her weapon. 

_"...You should've seen it up close: Lotor was practically restraining him—he was grabbing Lance so_ tight _..."_

Lotor glared. His weapon was at his belt, but he had no armor. 

_"...We have to be certain. We can't break Lance's heart. With the condition he's in... he's so afraid that we won't accept Lotor. What if we're wrong? What if we lose him...?"_

_"... We_ are _certain..."_

Lotor charged. Veronica fired directly at his head: Big mistake. he ducked easily, weaving through her bullets like a dance. As he got closer, she put both hand on her gun. Lotor ripped it out of her hands, smacking her on the head with the metal grip. Veronica crumpled to the floor. 

Lotor stood over Veronica's body with the gun in his hand. He could fire. He could kill Veronica; he could kill everyone who stood between him and Lance. As Lotor listened to the recording of Lance's family conspiring against them, something registered in Lotor's head.

_Lance overheard this conversation._

Lotor clenched his fists. There was no odd human ritual where the new family member watched the children. How could Lotor be so stupid? Lance knew what his family was thinking all along. He helped them. 

Lance was trying to get away.

Lotor checked the wrist tracker. Lance was still at the house. Both of the trackers were withing three feet of each other, so he hadn't managed to remove them in any way. 

Lotor sprinted back to the house, leaving Veronica on the beach. 

Lotor followed the path they took to the beach. He felt like he was winding left and right, now that he was running so fast. Lotor cursed; Veronica must've taken him on the longest way possible. Lotor set his wrist tracker to scan the surrounding environment. He plotted the quickest way to the house. 

Lotor finally made it. Lance was on the porch with his mother. 

Lotor charged, but Lance didn't seem to see. Lance's eyes were bloodshot. His nose was dripping. His lip quivered. It was like he was having a freak out, but he wasn't attacking him mother—he always attacked Lotor when he freaked out. 

_That_ was what had been bugging Lotor this whole trip, even if he was just now realizing it. Lance had been put in so many situations where he would normally tense up or freak out. Any mention of his situation with Lotor and he shut down. But here, with his family, he rose to the occasion and answered everything with poise. Except he lied— _constantly_. 

Lotor may have understood Lance's need to save face with Keith, but seeing him lie about their relationship was starting to get under his skin. Why was it that Lance freaked out when he was with Lotor? Even last night, Lance almost lost control when it was just the two of them. 

Lotor didn't understand it. 

As he got closer, he heard what they were saying. 

"He wants _kids_ —" Lance choked. "I can't—mamma, I can't!" Lance clutched his stomach, hugging himself like he did when he was really scared. "I—I—mom..." 

"Take this—" She pulled his hand away from his body and shoved something into his hand. "Take this to town and get the first transport to Havana. See your uncle and get your ass to a hotel and check in unlisted—"

" **—** _no_ **—"**

 **"** Don't stay with your uncle! We won't let him find you by him—" 

"—mom!" Lance sobbed. He displayed his wrists, tugging at the wrist bands. "It's not possible—it's not."

"What in the hell—no..." She gasped, trying to yank the tracking bracelets off. 

"These have a quintessence concentration so unique and powerful he can track them from—" 

Their eyes met.

Lance froze up completely. He dragged his arms slowly to his body. His eyes darted around and he stood deadly still. Lotor knew what that meant: Lance was about to have an episode. 

Lotor would have to drag him away. He'd have to drag him, kicking and screaming to the hospital so they could put him under and treat him. Lotor had done it over a dozen times—he had no choice. 

Lance's mother tensed, sensing the change in her son. Barely a second had passed since Lance noticed Lotor's presence, but she was attentive. Lotor was charging the porch before she turned around. Lotor had to get Lance, get to the ship, and put Lance in a pod. 

Lotor pulled a key out of his pocket. He pressed the key and summoned his ship in autopilot. He dropped the key in the grass where the ship had plenty of room to land. 

Lance's mother stepped in front of Lance with her arms spread; her chest puffed out. 

Lotor licked his lips. He could _not_ hurt Lance's mother. He'd have to remove her safely...

Lance understood what Lotor was thinking. Lance, stepped to the side, his body stiff and terrified. He was in the weird middle space—like he was shut down and frozen in his freak out, but also trying to rise to the occasion and control himself around his family. 

When Lance's mother tried to hide him behind her, Lance pushed her out of the way. He looked at the gun in Lotor's hand: Veronica's gun. Lance sobbed, turning to talk to his mother. Lotor read Lance's lips, he said: _he will kill you._

Lotor scowled. He would tell Lance that his family was never in danger later. But right now, he had to get Lance. 

Lance stepped forward. He held up his hands, trying to calm Lotor down. Lotor shook his head; Lance was not getting out of this. His family wasn't just trying to separate them. Lance only refused because of those wrist bands. 

The air pressure changed. Soon after, the sound of Lotor's ship roared through the air. Lance took a step back, his hand stretching out for his mother. 

"No!" Lance sobbed. "No, please—Lotor—" 

Lotor grabbed his wrist, yanking so hard his mother lost her grip on her son. She started to scream. She was just some _human_.

Before meeting Lance's family, Lotor had a really high opinion of humans. Now, Lotor understood that they were just like any species—like the galra. The first humans—Sam, Matt, and Shiro—were a specialist bunch. The paladins were all unique in their abilities, but Lance's family was normal. And Lance's mother didn't stand a chance against Lotor and his training. 

Lotor turned around, his ship landing and the walkway lowered to the ground. Two of the specialist guards in all black suits stepped out. 

"Inside!" Lotor yelled, thinking about their suits. "Grab every piece of altean or galra technology you can find."

Then all hell broke loose. Lance's mother was screaming in Spanish and English; demanding that he not lay a finger on her son. Veronica had chased him back from the beach. She'd arrived quicker than he would have liked; but she knew the territory. Lance's legs crumbled beneath him. He fell to the ground while Lotor dragged him by his wrist. 

"No!" Lisa yelled from the porch. Lotor looked over.

He could see Rachel unconscious on the ground while the guards tore the house apart. Lisa and Marco charged Lotor, not a single hint of hesitation in their eyes—but plenty of fear. 

Lotor hesitated for a moment, in complete shock at the determination in their eyes. Lotor's shock allowed Lance to jerk his hand out of his grip. Lance collapsed on the ground, curled in a ball while he watered the grass with his tears.

Lance's mother was by her son's side, her hand on Lance's back and neck while she cried with him. 

"Please, no..." Lance sobbed. Lotor could barely hear him through the tears. "Don't, please, Lotor—I can't do this anymore—I can't go back—"

Lotor had looked away fro too long. Marco's fist almost connected with Lotor's head. Lotor barely managed to grab his arm and twist him away, throwing him to the ground. Lisa jumped on top of Lotor. Her size and strength weren't enough to knock him to the ground. Lotor was expecting her to body slam Lotor, not jump on him and grab his hair! She wrapped her legs around Lotor's body and screamed, trying to pull him to the ground. 

Lotor twisted and fell to the ground. He grabbed Lisa's waist and slammed her into the earth hard enough to break bone. Her grip on Lotor's hair slackened. 

Veronica was the one to finally land a hit—he didn't even see her coming. Her heel connected with his temple and he spun to the ground. He had a moment when he was stunned when he remembered Lance's human stature never stopped him from putting up a good fight. Lotor made a mistake underestimating Lance's family. 

_Right_... Humans _weren't_ weak; they were scrappy. A strip of leather touched the skin underneath Lotor's chin and he snapped out of his shock. He spun away and punched Veronica in the jaw. She fell. He Lisa and Marco where they laid on the ground for good measure.

Veronica had managed to get her belt under Lotor's chin. If she had yanked up hard enough, she would have broken his neck and killed him. Lotor would have died. 

Veronica almost killed him. In ten-thousand years, very few had gotten _so close_.

If Veronica succeeded, the guards would have slaughtered the whole family; including Lance. 

Lotor stood over all of them, his chest heaving. Everyone stood still in defeated silence. Lotor took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. Lotor turned to Lance's mom. 

He touched her shoulder, pushing her gently—but firmly—away from Lance. When Lotor touched Lance, he wailed like a wounded animal. Lance stayed curled up on the ground, hugging himself tight.His mother didn't try to attack Lotor; she was at a loss for what to do. All of her other children were injured or unconscious. Lotor grabbed Lance's arm by the bicep, ordering him to stand. Lance's legs pushed up, but he fell back down and cried.

Lotor released a frustrated growl. Lotor wrapped his arms around Lance, pushing his chest into Lance's back in a strong hug from behind. He stood, forcing Lance to stand. He guided Lance like that to the ship. Lotor helping Lance with every step. Lotor's arms made a strong cross over Lance's chest. Lance clawed at his arms—his fingernails breaking Lotor's skin. 

"It'll be okay," Lotor growled. 

Lance shook his head. His breathing was ragged—unlike any freak out Lance has ever had before. Lance had never gotten this bad. He was so far gone it broke Lotor's heart. Lance could barely say single words, but he tried. Through his gasps and tears, he tried. Lotor couldn't stay mad at him: it wasn't his fault. Lance's family pushed him and manipulated him. Lotor knew he couldn't leave Lance's side, or someone might freak him out—and that's exactly what happened. Lance would get better again. 

"... Stop—" Lance gagged. 

The guards emerged from the house with the suits of armor in their arms. Lotor's mother stood, approaching the guards. They drew their weapons. Lotor almost yelled at them not to harm her, but he didn't have to. She held her hand out calmly, placing something in the guards hand. The guard accepted it and added it to the pile of items he was holding. They walked around her and boarded the ship. 

Getting up the plank with Lance struggling was hard. Lance kept dragging his feet. Once they got halfway up, Lance spun around. He kicked helplessly as Lotor held him. 

"Mom!" Lance sobbed. 

Lotor gazed at the scene below them. Veronica was kneeling over her sister-in-law Lisa while Marco held their mother in his arms. Lance started to still in Lotor's arms, calming himself as he looked at his family. 

Lotor decided to use that moment of calm to get Lance onto the ship. Lance was slow to realize they were moving again. 

"No..." Lance whispered, calling out one more time. "Mom?" 

Lotor threw him inside. Lance stopped fighting once he couldn't see his family anymore. He stopped crying, he stopped kicking... he stopped standing. Lotor dragged him over to the control panel and had him sit on the floor. Lotor paced to the bridge and threw Veronica's gun onto the ground. He retracted the bridge and set the ship on autopilot. 

The ship took off and they were out of the atmosphere in a few minutes. After half an hour, they were passing the last planet in Lance's home system. Lance's eyes caught a small moon as they flew by—horror dawning on his face.

Lotor was afraid Lance would freak out again, but Lance didn't. He fell numb. He leaned his head against the wall and stared blankly into space.

Despite how horribly everything went, Lotor still thought he did a good thing. Taking Lance to see his family was something he had to do, even if things were going to be a little weird for a while. 

Lotor and Lance sat in the cockpit in silence for a long time. Once they were far enough away from Lance's home planet, Lotor sent a signal to Haggar. He gave her the coordinated to open a wormhole so they could return to the Patrulian System. 

Lance would be horrified; they weren't far enough away from Lance's home. The galra would find the planet soon enough, but that didn't matter anymore. Zarkon's days were numbered.

Before Lotor found this planet, he and his mother—the woman formally known as Honerva—found Oriande. It took Lotor a long time to find the map, but he did. Haggar awakened it and they journeyed to the system together. 

Lotor failed the test. Haggar didn't.

Lotor wanted to be rid of Haggar once and for all. He didn't want anything to do with her; even if she claimed her altean restoration brought back her love for him. She wasn't Honerva; she was a witch. But Lotor didn't pass and she did. He needed her to get the Sincline ships ready for their upcoming expedition. Soon, they would be able to sustain the empire through natural means. They would bring the alteans out of hiding from the colony. But to do it, they had to kill Zarkon.

She was more than happy to open a wormhole so Lotor could bring Lance home. 

Lotor sat on the ground next to Lance, setting the ship on course for the portal—then the cruiser. Lotor didn't touch him. He let Lance sit in silence. Lance's eyes were lazy and unfocused. 

"Thank you..." Lance mumbled. 

Lotor took that as his cue. He brushed his fingers through Lance's hair, massaging his scalp. Lance had cried so much he probably had a monstrous headache. 

"... for not hurting my family."

Lance leaned into Lotor's touch. 

"i never would," Lotor swore. "Let me get you some water, sweet Lance."

Lance nodded. 

Lotor had some water with some sleeping serum brought to them. Lotor helped Lance wrap his hands around the cup. 

"Drink this," Lotor whispered. "When you wake up, we'll be home for good."

Lance looked into the glass. He waited before raising it to his lips. He drank it so fast liquid dribbled down his chin. Lance leaned over quickly, nuzzling his face against Lotor's hand. His blue eyes were dizzy and stuck in a haze. Lotor caressed his soft skin as he fell asleep. 

Lotor carried Lance to the sleeping quarter's resting them on the bed they would share. 

"What did she give you?" Lotor asked the guard. 

The woman stepped forward, handing him a delicate golden bracelet. There was nothing special about it; no words or jewels.

"Did it come with a message?" Lotor asked, slicking his hand so she would know she could talk. 

"She asked that you give it to him when it was time."

Lotor held the small chain between his fingers. Lance's family told a lot of lies; he didn't know what to trust. Was this a message that would hurt Lance? Gold was a symbol of marriage in galran culture; was it the same with humans? If it were, why would Lance's mother want Lotor to give this to her son? 

Maybe she wasn't trying to pull anything sneaky. Perhaps she was just a woman who wanted to give her son a gift.

Lotor dismissed the guard. It was a gamble, but he had to try. Even if he kept this bracelet until he though Lance could handle it, Lance might be mad he hid it from him. Lotor clasped the bracelet around Lance's wrist while he slept. 


	22. The Royal Wedding

**Allura**

* * *

Allura glanced at Shiro. Surely, he'd lost his mind. Either that, or she had altean fluttergans clogging her ears. 

"I am telling you," Shiro repeated. "That's the way we need to go."

The paladins on the bridge shifted uncomfortably. 

Coran pointed at the monitor. "I'm telling you, this is a graveyard."

Shiro nodded. "And we have to fly through it."

"Shiro—" Allura placed her hand on his shoulder. "What are you feeling that makes you think this?"

Shiro grimaced, as if he was in pain. "I—I don't know," he gasped. "But this feels familiar—I know this place. I—I've seen it."

"You've... seen it?" Pidge asked, her voice suspicious. 

"Yes," Shiro didn't seem to notice the team's discomfort at this revelation. "I can't explain it. I see a lot of things now, flashes of... something."

No one moved. No one spoke. 

Shiro turned to Allura, his eyes pleading. "I'm not crazy. These flashed I'm seeing, they must be memories... memories of my time with the galra. There must be more I've blocked out. But think about it—Pidge sensed Lotor in this area almost a week ago, and we've gotten nowhere. He vanished in a second. What if this is the reason? What if this place... this place I remember—is from my time with the galra? That would explain why there are so many ships here."

"He's right," Pidge reluctantly agreed. 

Allura didn't know what was troubling Pidge so much, but she was certain it wasn't good. 

"Our best shot at finding Lance and Keith is by flying into that graveyard."

"Should we take the lions?" Hunk asked. "Just he green lion?" 

Pidge shook her head. "Even if I could pick up on Lotor's trail again, I don't think it's smart to take a lion into that—" Pidge gestured at the graveyard of ships. "We do not understand what's causing this and we _can't_ lose another lion."

"I agree," Allura nodded at her. "But if Shiro really thinks there is something important about this place, we have to investigate."

"We could take a pod," Hunk suggested.

"It would be better to take the castle," Pidge explained. "The castle can protect the lions. And we can't get stranded in a pod."

Coran grimaced. "It makes sense. Figures the galra would hide in the Patrulian System."

"It'll be all right, Coran," Allura promised. She took a deep breath. "Okay, let's fly into the graveyard."

Coran reluctantly navigated the ship through the system, but he didn't show his discomfort so openly. He carried on with a cheerful smile, not faltering even as they passed bodies floating among the ships. They navigated for a long time. 

Allura felt something buzzing down her spine. She stepped towards the monitors, hoping to see an explanation. No one else seemed to notice.

"I think Shiro's right," Allura whispered in awe. "There's something close."

"Close?" Shiro asked. 

"I can't explain it," Allura mumbled. "It's like there's something... something..."

The battle cruisers in front of them shifted, drifting apart to reveal a bright, white light. 

*** * * * ***

After great trial and error, Allura left (what turned out to be _Oriande_ ) an altean alchemist. She'd discovered many important things. First, Haggar was altean and had forced the secrets of altean alchemy out of the guardians. Second, Haggar was working closely with Lotor and using her newfound power. Third, her altean alchemy allowed her to spiritually connect herself to the highly-unique quintessence that Lotor was known for using (the very same kind Keith joined the Blades to track). Forth, there was a high amount of that quintessence aboard one particular ship they had confirmed was Lotor's. 

That was how Kolivan was able to start a new initiative to find out as much about Lotor's plans and ship as they possibly could. The castle of Lion's was staying hidden out of range. Between Allura's tracking abilities and Pidge's newfound connection with the green lion, they had Lotor pinned.

Which means they had Lance within their sights. Not within their grasp, not until they knew more, but within their sights nonetheless. 

They tracked them for weeks, following Lotor's ship from watery planet to watery planet. Hunk and Pidge suspected Lotor was trying to please Lance. Kolivan confirmed that was the case after sending an operative into something called an 'aquarium' on one of the planets. Lance and Lotor spoke openly about their backgrounds. They shared an intimate moment in public before returning to the ship. Supposedly, Kolivan had a video of it, but he wouldn't show the team. Kolivan wouldn't even tell them the details of what happened, but he insisted they were running out of time. 

Lance was running out of time. 

It was alarming and terrifying when Allura and Pidge's tracking told different stories. Allura was tracking the ship's quintessence, but Pidge was tracking Lotor. 

They thought Lotor was taking Lance to another planet, but he didn't have his ship or army behind him. Moment's later, Haggar opened a wormhole.

And Lotor disappeared through it. 

Shiro tried to convince the team to strike when Lotor was gone, but Kolivan was able to calm him knock some sense into him. For all they knew, Lance went with Lotor. Allura didn't want to believe Lance could leave without the heavy security keeping him prisoner, no one did, but it seemed that was the case. 

They waited weeks for Lotor to return. A day after his return, Zarkon opened a message for the entire empire to see. 

For the first time in ten thousand years, there would be a royal wedding.

*** * * * ***

Allura blended in with the crowd. She donned a traditional cloak to match her new galran appearance. She didn't have an earpiece, not like the last time they tried to rescue Lance. No one knew how Keith got caught, just that he activated his earpiece long-distance. No one had seen him since. It had been a long year for them, Allura couldn't imagine what it was like for Keith.

Or _Lance_.

Allura followed the crowd into a massive courtyard. Building thousand of stories high rose from the east and the west. A massive alter perched over the building’s edge at the top of the largest tower in the north. The ceremony would begin once the third sun rose in the south, where it would shine the light of war onto the new prince of the galra. 

Allura crossed through the crowd and sneaked into one of the towers. It was her job to serve as a lookout, but she was suspecting she's have a much larger role to play. 

Allura didn't want to leave this to Shiro and the others. Hunk and Pidge, despite being excellent paladins, were not the most pristine fighters. And Shiro... something was _wrong_ with Shiro. 

Allura climbed more stairs than she ever wanted to see in her life, but she got to the top floor of the southern alter just as the sun was rising. The crowd broke out in cheers. 

It looked like they were going for a more galran ceremony, despite Lotor's clear allegiance to Altea. The hoarded of crowds were certainly a galran tradition, as alteans saw marriage as a deeply personal engagement, even among royals. Lotor walked down the deep red carpet. He knelt before his father. Zarkon put a crown on Lotor's head. Lotor stood and turned, exposing his back to his father. Zarkon draped a heavy purple cape over Lotor's shoulders. He departed from Allura's view. Lotor knelt at the top of the alter, facing away from her. He kept himself faced towards the curtains. 

Allura watched as the curtains parted, revealing Lance. Her breath caught. She couldn't see him clearly from this distance, but she recognized the shape of him. He walked calmly down the carpet towards Lotor. She couldn't see any details, but she could tell his outfit was a spectacular gold.

Lance stopped in front of Lotor. This was the part in the galran ceremony that Lance would take the hands of the parents. The parents would ease him stomach-first onto the ground. Except Zarkon didn't reappear. And no one stepped forward to take the place of Lotor's mother. 

Lance tensed. His arms jerked away from his body, like something was forcing them apart. The top half of his body inched closer to the floor. 

Allura got an idea. She promised herself she wouldn't attack with vicious power. She was sure she would hurt Lance. But if Lance was on the ground...

The moment Lance stilled on the floor, Allura made her move. She didn't know what she was doing, or how she was doing it, but she felt the power erupt from her body like a volcano. Over a year of festering pain and misery and loss exploded all at once. Allura released a sonic burst of energy so loud the glass on every tower shattered. The resounding wave knocked everyone standing in front of her directly onto their stomachs, including Lotor. Jagged shards fell like heavy rain into the crowds below. Screams echoed between the towers, each one building on top of the last to compose a chorus of agony. 

The soldiers closest to Lotor rushed forward. They were wearing full black armor. They must be the super-secure detail Kolivan had heard rumors about. 

She'd glimpsed the guards taking Lance away. She only had eyes on him for a second before she lost him. It hurt so much to always be so close to him—only to be torn from her reach.

 _Don't give up now,_ Allura urged herself. _We still have a chance to get him back._

Allura doubted she could find a way to Lance by going through the buildings. She would have to cross the massive canyon by going over them. 

Allura grabbed onto the edge of the roof and swung on top of the buildings. She charged over the tilted roofs and closed the distance between them. She felt the intense heat of blasts from someone's gun whipping by her face and arms, never striking her. Allura was so close to where Lance had been. Allura could just make out the details on the carpets and curtains where the ceremony was held when the roof collapsed under her feet. 

Allura stood tall, bringing her arms up to defend herself. Before she could see her attacker, a powerful gust of wind forced her back. Allura collided with the wall. She collapsed onto the floor, gasping on her hands and knees. When she looked up, it was Haggar standing over her; except, it wasn't. 

Haggar's hood was down, revealing her peach-colored face. Her hair was white as usual, but tied back into a bun. Her long, jagged galran marks had shrunk into much smaller altean marks. 

The alchemists at Oriande had warned Allura about this. They told her of the galran witch who was actually altean. She nearly destroyed the place. She left with the secrets of Oriande, even though she used force. Not to mention, she had over ten thousand years of practice with dark, quintessence-fueled magic. Allura didn't stand a chance. 

Haggar's stance was aggressive, the dark alchemist prepared to strike at any moment.

"Who are you?" Allura asked. 

Haggar sneered. Her fingers stretched open, shooting dark violet beams of power. Allura ducked and rolled. She lashed out, sending her whip on course to wrap around Haggar's ankles. 

Haggar vanished in a plume of smoke. Allura felt something tingle on her spine. She flipped onto her back, her bayard turning into a staff. Haggar's magic collided with Allura's staff, bouncing off it and collapsing the structures close to them. 

Allura jumped to her feet. The surrounding pillars were crumbling into dust. Allura saw the balcony out of the corner of her eye and ran to the exit as fast as she could. Metal and concrete shattering around her into rubble. Dust bit at her heels and stung her eyes. 

Haggar was taking advantage of the total collapse. Black lightning flickered around Allura and destroyed all the remaining pillars. The lightning was getting ahead of her, tearing down the supports in her path. Allura ran to the side, barely avoiding getting crushed to death. She kept running as fast as she could, but she was running out of space. The ground in front of her ended in less than a hundred feet. 

There wasn't a ledge for Allura to grab onto and no platform to jump on. She was running out of ideas, and she _had_ to get to Lance. 

As she ran to the balcony, Lance appeared before her. They were continuing with the ceremony. Lance was wearing his ceremonial robes—cleaned and cut in a way disrespectful to both galra and altean tradition. Allura could see him so clearly now, golden bands bound to his wrists. Metal chains attached to those bands like leeches. 

Allura scowled. She assumed Haggar had used her magic to force Lance down, but he was chained. Lotor was supposed to take him by the hands and lay him down... but instead, he chained him up. 

Allura was at the edge, now. Haggar was blasting lightning away behind her. Allura jumped, sailing through the air until she landed on the ground in front of Lance's feet. 

Allura snapped her head back to look behind her. Haggar was gone—the entire coliseum was gone. Allura looked back. Lotor and Lance stood in front of her, just as shocked as she was. 

They broke out of their shock at the same time. Allura, charging forward in a desperate attempt to save Lance; Lotor matching her in equal force to protect his most prized possession. 

Allura could barely keep up with him. The massive sweeps of his sword were too quick and eloquent for Allura to match. She would not last long in this fight—she was sure. 

She was holding her ground when the guards burst in. They were wearing dark black armor and masks. She had never seen anyone like them before. As they charged, she held her hand out, sending them flying back into the other room. It was a huge win, but it allowed Lotor to get the upper hand. The flat of his sword caught her ribs. She heard a crack and collapsed on the ground. 

Allura raised her staff to block the next blow. Lotor's sword glided down her staff and cut her hand. She dropped her bayard, cradling her cut hand to her chest. Lotor kicked her. She fell on her back. 

Allura made eye contact with Lance. He was standing against the wall, his hands braced on the table like it was the only thing stopping him from running away. His eyes were wide and scared. The chains had fallen onto the ground and his vest was twisted awkwardly around his body. 

"Lance—" 

Allura screamed when Lotor's foot stomped onto her leg. She prayed her bones weren't broken. Lotor's hand was in her hair, pulling her up to meet his face.

"Don't you speak to him," Lotor demanded.

Allura growled. "What are you afraid of, Lotor?"

Lotor slapped her, but it was Lance who flinched. It made Allura seethe. Allura tried to comfort him, pleading at him with her eyes. Lotor raised his hand to slap her again.

"No, don't!" Lance pleaded. 

"Stay out of this!" Lotor barked. 

Lance flinched, pushing his body against the table again. 

Lotor picked up her bayard, examining it closely. "We have just the place for you." 

"No, Lotor—" 

"I told you to stay out of this!" Lotor bellowed. 

Lance whimpered, his chest shaking as his eyes welled up.

"You have to let her go," Lance whispered. 

The look Lotor gave Lance sent shivers down Allura's spine. 

"Please," Lance breathed. 

Lotor's jaw hardened. He stepped forward, bending down to pick up Lance's chains. 

"Lance!" Allura cried. "You don't have to—"

Lotor dove at her, his weapon aiming high to silence her for good. Allura clenched her eyes shut, accepting her fate.

She heard metal clang against metal. When she opened her eyes, Lotor's sword was inches from her face. A fine, golden chain wrapped around it, holding it away from her. 

Allura's gaze followed the chain to Lance's wrists, his face stricken with fear and determination. Lance’s arms were trembling from the effort of holding Lotor's powerful force at bay.

Lance saved her. 


	23. Lance's Plea

**Lance**

* * *

When Lance was a kid, he used to steal from his mom's closet. He'd take her finest jewelry and her most precious silk scarves—family heirlooms passed down for generations—and he'd hide them in his own room. 

He and Veronica would spend hours playing with her things. They each dressed in her nice work shirts. After a particularly daring heist, they put on her wedding dress and laughed at how big it was on each of them. They'd race across the stairs in her heels and trip over each other to cross the finish line first. It wasn't fair, because Veronica was bigger and faster, but Lance was the youngest... he knew how to play dirty. 

In the massive hordes of stolen merchandise, there was this gold bracelet that Lance adored. It was made of real gold, nothing but a single chain. It was the only item of real value in his mother's entire collection, he later found out. It didn't have any gems, but it felt so smooth in his hands. He was absolutely obsessed with it. He spent every moment he could holding it up to the light and feeling it against his fingertips. He loved it so much, but it felt too precious to take. 

One day, it went missing. Lance didn't steal it. There was a part of him that _wished_ he had. If it was going to go missing, couldn't _he_ at least keep it? His mother came to him immediately. She sat him on his bed and sat on the floor, so she could talk to him gently and wouldn't scare him. She asked him softly if he'd stolen it. He said _no_ , because he hadn't. She asked again and again. He realized she didn't believe him—that he was going to be punished for stealing it even though it wasn't him. 

There was nothing he could do to make her believe him. Eventually, she let him go. Somehow, for some reason, she trusted him. She had no reason to. 

Lance went to Veronica's bedroom to tell her how he was feeling about it when he found it on her nightstand. It was wrapped in a small handkerchief with his name written crudely in thick marker. It was the sweetest gift anyone had ever gotten him. But it couldn't stay there, Veronica would get in trouble. 

Lance took the bracelet to his mom and confessed that he did steal it. It took a lot of courage, but he decided to take the punishment of Veronica's crime to save her. After all, she did it because of him. From that day forward, Lance took a lot of punishments for things he didn't do. It didn't feel different from the things he actually did. 

It didn't feel any different now, either. He didn't care what happened to him—he didn't care if he lost Lotor's love and trust forever. He didn't care if he was going to be punished. If Lotor didn't punish him for this, Lance knew damn well that he would have found something to be mad about. Lance had been doomed for a while by this point.

But he couldn't let Allura suffer because Lance agreed to marry Lotor. 

Lance could feel his heart breaking—for himself and for Lotor—but he could tell there was only rage in his eyes. 

" _No_ ," Lance insisted, staring Lotor down.

Lotor didn't say anything, he just looked at Lance with a steely gaze. Lance knew that expression well, it was the look that said: _If you do not do as I say, I will hurt you._

"I _said_ ," Lance emphasized, refusing to back down " _NO_." 

_No, I am not yours to command,_ Lance thought, _No, I will not do as you say. No, I will not back down._

Lance tried to explain, but he couldn't find the words. "You can't kill her."

Lotor relaxed his grip on his sword, pulling away from Allura. Her eyes were unfocused from the pain. Lotor broke her leg at the knee, and he probably cracked a few ribs, too. Looking at her made him feel like a coward for hiding at the edge of the room. He should've taken the chance to escape. If Lance had any bravery at all, he would've bolted the moment the explosion went off.

Except then Keith would be stuck here forever, Lance reminded himself. He took a deep breath, finally understanding how to get what he needed from Lotor. Lance stepped forward and untangled the gold chains from Lotor's sword.

Lotor immediately leveled the tip of the sword under Lance's chin. Lance stifled a yelp, closing his eyes to conceal his fear. When Lance opened his eyes, his resolve unwavering, Lotor growled.

"I'll have her thrown in a cell, then," Lotor hissed, a dangerous threat in his voice. 

Lance shook his head. "You'll let her go." 

Lotor growled, clearly about to protest. 

"You have to," Lance explained. Lotor had to let her go _now_. "the laws of Consent only give me one gift to ask for—" and Lance had already asked for Keith to be set free. "I can't ask for her release and you will never be able to justify letting her go on your own." 

"Lance, what are you—" Allura tried to ask. 

"Quiet!" Lotor snapped. 

Lotor pushed the sword further into the sensitive skin under his neck. Lance grimaced, but held himself steady.

"I can't do it," Lance whispered. For once, in his entire time with Lotor, he was completely honest with the man.

As someone who was giving his Consent, he had the right to ask for one favor. It could be anything he wanted and no one could refuse—as if that made giving up your freedom forever worthwhile. For his wish, Lance chose to let Keith go. Lotor said the empire would never let Keith _and_ the lion go, but all Lance didn't care about the lion. All he wanted was for Keith to be free. That way, he wouldn't have to stress about what Keith thought or what he was going through... _wherever_ he was being held.

"I can't just trade Keith for her. I can never be yours with one of them under our roof, we've seen that. And..." 

Lotor cocked his head, silently challenging him to continue. 

"And I won't love you for a single day of my life if you kill her." 

That worked. Lotor lowered his sword. He turned to face Allura. He knelt in front of her, meeting her at eye-level. 

"You will leave and you will not come back," Lotor ordered in a low voice. 

"Never," Allura spat. 

"YOU WILL LEAVE!" Lotor screamed, totally out of control, "AND YOU WILL _NOT_ COME BACK!" 

"Let—Lance—Go," Allura demanded with an unsteady voice, "He clearly doesn't want to be here." 

"That's not true!" Lance assured her. If he didn't, Lotor would make him, and that wouldn't look good, "I want to marry him." 

"Lance—" 

Lotor kicked her chest. Allura shrieked and wobbled on the ground, clearly trying to stay conscious and upright. 

"Now you heard what Lance said," Lotor mumbled dangerously under his breath. "I can choose to let you go now, but if you don't take this opportunity—I will be forced to hold you prisoner. And no one, not even Lance, will _ever_ set you free. Take his sacrifice now. If you don't... you'll be the one hurting him." 

"Lance, you don't have to do this—" Allura panicked, her leg too injured to fight, "Not for me, not for Keith!"

"Allura it's okay—"

She sobbed, "But you'll never be able to take it back!" 

"I know," Lance told her gently. "I know. I am giving him my Consent, I know what that means." 

"No!" Allura gasped. "You don't understand. You _can't_ stay with him _._ I can feel your quintessence—" 

Lotor grabbed Allura's face, covering her mouth before she could finish.

Lance froze and looked at his hands. Every drink Lotor gave him, everything he'd ever eaten, all of those times Lotor took him to the hospital... _What was Lotor_ doing _to him?_

"Lotor?" Lance asked. "What's she talking about?" 

Lotor glared at him. "You get _one_ thing from me today, Lance. Understand?" 

He did. Lance was seriously pushing it with Lotor as it was, anything more would earn him a severe punishment. 

"But..." Lance pressed his lips together; he had to know, "What—" 

Lotor snapped his hand out and grabbed Lance's chains. He yanked hard—lance felt his arms rip away from his body and his wrists strained against the movement. Lance fell forward, his wrists grinding against the bracelets Lotor was pulling him by. Like instinct, Lance flipped himself around, trying to break free of Lotor's grasp. 

All Lance succeeded in doing was piss Lotor off. By twisting around, Lance maneuvered his arms over his head. Lotor yanked again, sending Lance flying to the ground. As soon as Lance hit the floor, Lotor stomped on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Lance wheezed, his vision blacking out.

"Don't hurt him!" Allura shouted through the haze. 

"I don't want to do this anymore," Lance wheezed, "I can't keep doing this—I want to go home." 

Lotor took Lance's chains and reeled him in until they were an arms length apart. He seized his wrists and jerked Lance close to meet his face. Lance folded like paper in Lotor's grip. Lance clenched his eyes shut, unable to stand his ground under that glare. 

"It's too late, Lance!" Lotor yelled. 

"Okay, okay—" Lance nodded his head, wishing he could take it back. 

Lotor kissed his cheek. "Don't ever say anything like that again—I couldn't bear it." 

Lance froze for a second, his body going numb. Slowly, he nodded his head, knowing he should agree. Lotor wrapped him in a painful embrace, trying to stop the shivering. Lance was grateful that Allura couldn't see his face anymore; he had a feeling he looked as terrified as he felt. Lance felt a sharp pin in his neck and he jerked away.

"No, don't..." Lance's body started to shut down. Lotor helped lower him onto the floor as he lost consciousness. 

*** * * * ***

Lance thought he'd been dressed up well for the wedding, but now he was wearing so much jewelry and makeup he almost didn't recognize himself. 

Lotor sat Lance in front of the mirror and gave the servants a generated image of Lance's face and body to replicate. Lance didn't get a say, which was unfortunate. Not because he'd lost control of everything in his life by offering his Consent, but because he could've done such a better job. If he were in control, the jewels would be delicate and beautiful. He'd go light on the makeup in a more seductive and teasing way. 

Is this what Lotor really wanted—a face painted beyond recognition? 

Lance wasn't just upset, he was insulted. Why did Lotor go through all the pain of doing this if he wasn't interested in Lance as a person? If he just wanted a trophy, then the universe was full of people Lotor could've picked from. Most of them part or full-galra, which would've at least helped Lotor politically. 

When they were done, they spun Lance to see the finished product in the mirror. Where Lance expected to see a blend of Altean blues and Galran purples, he was met with golds and reds and blacks. Lance's eyes were buried in a gradient of black to gold, like elegant bird feathers. His lips were barely changed, coated in a thin layer of clear oil.

"What do you think?" Lotor asked from the doorway behind him. 

"I don't like it," Lance said without thinking. Was he even allowed to say that anymore? If this was what Lotor really wanted, then Lance should go along with it, right?

The servants next to him froze at the blatant confession, but Lotor belted out laughing. "I didn't think you would."

Lance made a face and Lotor laughed again. 

"It's symbolic," Lotor explained.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. When he made eye contact with one of the servants, they held his gaze before looking away. Lance looked at his hands in his lap, playing with the golden bracelet that his mother gave to Lotor before they departed earth. Lotor approached and grabbed his shoulders to massage them. 

"I know you must miss them all," Lotor said. 

It was the first time they've talked about it since they left earth over a month ago, but it wasn't what was on Lance's mind. Lance was beginning to realize that he wasn't alone anymore. He had his own servants now. Of course, they would follow Lotor's orders above all, but Lance had the ability to do things now. He could ask for certain desserts or for a bath. 

Not to mention, the very, very subtle warning that one of them just gave Lance.

Lance leaned into the mirror, cocking his head. "I'm surprised the ceremonial makeup—or whatever—isn't purple. 

Lotor kissed his cheek. "Believe it or not, but galrans very rarely wear purple makeup."

Lance rolled his eyes, "Duh, I'm an idiot."

Lotor smiled. "Are you ready?"

Lance's stomach twisted. "For..." Lance swallowed. 

_For our first time married together?_ Lance wondered.

He could handle that. They'd been together more than a few times, so why was he so nervous?

"To see _him_ ," Lotor explained.

"See..." Lance's mouth felt dry. He reached for the nearest glass of water and started to drink. Halfway through, he remembered Lance's dire warning about his quintessence and he choked, staring at the glass in horror. 

Lotor took the glass from him and set it on the vanity.

"Why do I have to see him?" Lance asked, "Keith, I mean."

Lotor rubbed his back. "I know you don't want to—"

 _I want to,_ Lance thought.

"But you have to witness your gift in action. Plus, I thought it would bring you peace of mind."

"And... Allura?" Lance asked. He hadn't actually seen her leave. Lotor knocked her out before she left. How did she get away with a broken leg?

Did Lotor even let her go? 

"She escaped," Lotor said softly, then, with thinly-veiled spite, " _just as we agreed_."

"But..." Lance took a deep breath. "I didn't see her leave."

"You don't believe me?" Lotor asked.

"When you first brought me here, I didn't know Keith when Keith and the others came to rescue me. I didn't even know he was on the ship until Zarkon took me to his cell. I don't want to be in a fight with you a year from now..." Lance took a deep breath, trying not to cry and ruin his makeup, if he even could ruin it by crying, "I don't want to learn that she'd been here all along just... waiting for when you could use her against me."

Lotor growled, but he was clearing trying to hide it. "I never used Keith against you. Had it been up to me, you never would have known. Zarkon is the one who used Keith against you."

"And what about Allura?" 

"So you don't believe me," Lotor sighed, "That's what you're saying."

"It's not—it's not what I _mean_ to be saying," Lance tried.

"And yet, here we are."

Lance leaned over and kissed Lotor. 

"Look, Lance," Lotor whispered, his lips touching Lance's ear, "I have a plan... a plan already in motion. And, when the time comes, I want you to be part of it."

Lance turned his head so Lotor could see his confused expression. 

"I have a way that will prove to you that Allura escaped. Not a photo or a video, you will see with your own two eyes, I promise."

Lance swallowed, lowering his voice, "You want me to see her?"

"Yes," Lotor confirmed, "But I want you to understand, it won't be scary or stressful. You'll be able to handle it. And when it's over..." Lotor sighed, like he couldn't say everything yet. "It won't be for a long time. Can you trust me until then?"

Lance closed his eyes, leaning into Lotor's arms. 

"Yes," he lied. 


	24. Freedom

**Keith**

* * *

Keith was being tackled in the medical bay, screaming for Pidge to fly away, when he woke up in a really large, echoing room.

Keith had no memory of how they got him from the medical bay to the chamber where he was being held.

It wasn't like blinking. Keith wasn't shocked by the sudden appearance of curved metal walls and purple lights. There was something in Keith's head that explained everything for him. Time had passed. 

A lot of it.

Keith was bound to a vertical slab. His wrists were locked against the slab by his ears. The metal around his wrists was rigid and at least an inch thick. His legs were only loosely restrained, so he could shift his stand comfortably, but not walk away. 

Keith looked down at his ripped and worn prison clothes. They were clean and odorless. Keith's arms were pale—paler than normal. His legs were skinny and looked weak. He felt weak.

There was an entryway over a hundred feet away from him. It had no door or curtains blocking the harsh light from getting in. 

A figure briefly flickered the light from the entryway. Keith couldn't see who it was walking down the room towards him. As he got closer, Keith could make out the finer details. His hair was dark brown and grew out to his chin. As he grew closer, the harsh light stopped blacking out his skin tone. He was a smooth, beautiful brown from head to toe.

When Keith realized who it was, his entire body jerked instinctively. Keith could hear the loose chains around his ankles clinking against each other, echoing across the distant metal walls. 

Keith's brain froze. Lance was dressed in something that looked like leggings, but they were concealed by see through golden robes that put his body on display. His face was caked in foundation and concealer. He had gold eyeshadow that blended into smoky winged tips. He had asymmetrical earrings, one ear had a stud and one with beautiful looping chains. Both ears were capped with a golden piece that made him look Altean. 

Keith's neck felt tighter. Last he remembered, he was trying to save Lance from a fighting ring after Lotor abducted him. But, somehow, he knew Lance hadn't been in one for a long time.

"Um," Keith swallowed, and tried to speak again, but failed. 

Lance seemed to be just as mute as him. 

"How..." Keith choked, "How long?"

Lance blinked. "Oh—I don't—I don't know."

"You don't know?" Keith found that odd.

Lance straightened his shoulders and set his jaw. His stance was firm and his expression steely. It was the same expression he wore in battle, but without his usual confidence.

"How much do you remember?" Lance asked him.

Keith thought about it. He could feel all the empty spaces in his head where his memories used to be, but he just couldn't bring them to the surface. It was the exact same frustration he got when trying to remember a word that he already knew, but somehow forgot. 

"Nothing. Why can't I remember anything?"

"We wiped your memories," Lance explained. 

Keith thought he would elaborate, but he didn't. Keith took the moment to just look at Lance. He knew that something was wrong, but he couldn't get his brain into gear. 

The Blades trained Keith to be observant and perceptive. He was able to take in an entire field of battle and compute that information in a rational way to make the best decision for survival. Keith knew he was a sharp and clever person... but he couldn't even  _ think _ .

"I feel..." Keith couldn't find the words.

Lance pursed his lips, a hint of concern showing in his eyes. 

"I'm  _ slow _ ," Keith whispered.

"You've been in solitary confinement since we last saw each other," Lance explained in more detail, "but you were in solitary before that too so..." Lance sighed and looked away, clearly ashamed. "You won't be able to live—you wouldn't be able to live after spending all that time like that."

"So you wiped my memories?" Keith asked. "I don't understand."

"It's not what I wanted for you," Lance admitted, looking over his shoulder, "I want you to live like none of this ever happened."

"But..." Keith blinked. "Why wipe my memories?"

"The trauma," Lance said, "mostly—I mean, it's also a security risk."

"I don't... I don't think I understand."

Lance frowned. Keith noticed his lips were brighter and shinier than they should have been. 

Lance's eyes widened. "After I'd been here a while, Lotor gave me a library. It had a lot of books but I couldn't really read them. And it had a lot of galran movies but I couldn't follow them because they were so... complicated. It wasn't until I had read a couple books that—" Lance's expression softened.

Lance stepped forward. "You haven't read a book. Or talked to anyone. You're not used to it."

"But I don't remember it."

"That doesn't mean your brain is suddenly ready to jump back into action." 

Keith nodded his head. He didn't quite get it, but he didn't want to waste his time on something as stupid as himself right now.

"Are you okay?" Keith wondered.

"I'm alive," Lance offered quietly, barely above a whisper.

"I know," Keith said lamely. There was something important he needed to ask, but he couldn't think of what.

Lance tapped his bare foot. He had rings on his toes that clinked against the hard floor.

When it finally clicked, Keith blurted it out. "We've seen each other before?"

"Right, it was—" Lance took a deep breath in, "a test of my loyalties." 

"Of your loyalties?" Keith seethed. He may not be thinking clearly, but he knew that made him mad. "To what?"

"To Lotor."

"No," Keith shook his head, "Lance he took you."

"I'm sorry, Keith. I know you don't understand."

"I understand perfectly Lance, he kidnapped you."

"He loves me."

"He  _ kidnaped _ you!"

"I'm not a child," Lance whispered. 

Keith scoffed. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

Lance clenched his jaw, like he was mad at Keith. Keith remembered the last thing Coran said to him before they left to rescue lance: that he hoped he didn't have to convince Lance to come with him.

"Do you really not remember that visit?"

Keith shook his head. 

Lance's eyes were bright with fury. "You called me a whore."

"No," Keith balked.

"You did." Lance was starting to sound angry. "You said I was slutting it up to the empire."

"No, no—I absolutely did not—"

"How would you know?" Lance screamed, "You don't even remember."

"I know myself," Keith argued, "and I would never ever, ever—"

"Stop." Lance held up his hand. His demand echoed around the empty dome until fading behind the ship's engines.

Keith was starting to remember himself now. He wasn't any sharper than when he woke up, but he was slowly coming out of his shocked silence. He had so much he wanted to say—more things he wanted to scream—but he remained silent, hanging his head in defeat.

If Keith was here long enough for solitary confinement to mess him up so bad, then Lance had been here long enough for Lotor to do a number on him. 

"Nothing to say?" Lance asked. 

_ What was that in his voice? _ Keith wondered.  _ Hope? Disappointment? _

Keith answered him with silence. 

"Fine," Lance sighed, "It's probably for the best. You make sure Allura is okay for me, will you?"

Keith swallowed, his throat so tight it hurt. His eyes felt hot and his sight grew blurry. "Lance—"

Lance put his hand on Keith's shoulder, leaning into Keith's ear. His hand felt cold and hard on Keith's joints. 

"I'll see you all soon," Lance whispered.

Lance turned around, facing the open doorway. The light blacked out Lance's figure as he paced away from Keith. As he left, Keith found himself speculating as to why Lance had waited to come here—as well as why they chose  _ now  _ to erase his memories.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Keith called before he could stop himself, "Why even come here?"

Lance paused. Even though he was far away, Keith could hear Lance take a deep breath.

"It's ceremonial," Lance answered, "for the wedding."

"The what?" Keith shouted. "Lance, what?"

Lance was already walking away, leaving Keith chained to the slab. Keith couldn't shake his arms free, but he could move his legs a little bit. He started to kick furiously, trying to break the chains around his ankles. 

"Lance!" Keith shouted, "Don't do it! He will never let you go!"

Lance stopped in the doorway, clearly looking back at Keith. Without saying anything else, he turned away and left for good.

_ "Lance!" _

*** * * * ***

Hours later, a tube rose around Keith's body, encasing him in a prison no bigger than the slab he was chained to. A curved glass pane gave Keith a little view of the room, which remained empty. The sounds of machines starting up shocked him, but he couldn't do anything to stop it. Was this the solitary confinement that he'd been in all this time? 

Keith's stomach lurched, like he was in a freefall. Keith watched as his pod fell through the empty dome. Keith's body fell completely against the slab. Thick metal cuffs locked around his ankles, holding him in place. Seconds after he started falling, the dome disappeared. Keith could see it above him. It looked like a giant sphere in space, orbiting a gas giant. the slab underneath him cooled.

With the sound of a click, Keith's arms and legs were set free. Keith threw his arms against the metal in front of him, pushing himself back into the slab. His palms ached against the cold metal, his wrists were screaming in pain. Despite his body refusing to listen to him, his adrenaline was working in overtime. Now that he was floating in space, the effects of falling and gravity were leaving him helpless. Keith was weaker than he thought, he was drained from standing for so long. 

Keith tried to peer out the window and assess his surroundings. His chest felt tight, like he'd just been plunged into ice water. But he needed to be sure he wasn't about to get sucked into the gas giant. Before Keith could even find the gas giant, he was pulled into a long chute.

Keith felt gravity take hold and he fell to the floor of the pod. The pod was awfully cramped, every bone and corner of his body was being forced into the walls of the pod. The pod slowed until the force against his body became bearable. Bright, teal light shone through the window. Then, the pod hit the ground and stopped.

The sensation of stillness was so unusual, Keith almost couldn't identify it. He tried to stand up, when he realized he'd landed longways—he was laying down. Keith scooted up, trying to get a view of the ceiling, when a figure leaned over the window—several figures.

"Hunk?" Keith gasped, looking right at his old friend. Although Lance erased his memories of captivity, Keith could  _ feel  _ that it had been a long time. "And Pidge!" 

Hunk didn't look any slimmer than when Keith last saw him, but his shoulders were broader and stronger—like he'd been working out with machine parts on his back. His hair was longer and sloppily cut, but still held back by the same bandana. Pidge's hair was exactly the same, but she looked exhausted. Both of their mouths were moving like they were talking to him, or to each other, but Keith couldn't hear anything.

Shiro pulled the two paladins away from the window and took their place. Keith could read his name on Shiro's lips. 

Keith put his hand on the window, trying to touch Shiro through the glass. Shiro placed his hand on the glass too. His lips were moving, giving the others orders, but he kept eye contact with Keith. 

Suddenly, Keith could hear the squeaking of metal against metal. He looked up towards the sound and set his fingertips against the ceiling of his pod. He could feel the cap rotating. As light crept into the pod, Keith tried to scoot to the top. As soon as it popped off, Keith could hear everyone talking all at once. 

"Oh my gosh, I got it!" Hunk cheered, "I just used this tool—"

"Thanks, Hunk," Shiro cut him off, "Keith? Keith can you hear us?"

Keith couldn't seem to speak. He tried to scoot out, but he couldn't get his body moving. Without hesitation, Pidge dove into the pod and wrapped her hands tightly around his wrists. 

"Hunk! Pull us out!" She called out.

It felt like Keith's arms were being ripped out of their sockets, he grunted painfully, but welcomed the sensation. He'd been standing in the same position for hours.

When the light hit Keith's eyes, he winced and groaned. He hadn't realized that the window had been so heavily darkened. As soon as Pidge released his arms, he clasped his hands over his eyes, desperate to keep the light from piercing through his eyelids. 

Keith could feel Shiro's hands—one metal, one flesh—pulling him off the ground. Each touch shocked his body, the same way Lance's had. Keith could feel his body being crushed against Shiro's chest. Shiro was so warm it was almost uncomfortable.

"What's wrong with him?" Shiro worried. 

Hunk and Pidge answered at the same time, each talking to quickly Keith couldn't follow. It hurt somehow, it was confusing him. He covered his ears, burying his eyes into Shiro's body. 

Shiro shushed them harshly. Keith could feel Shiro's prosthetic heating up and rubbing his back. His bare hand rubbed Keith's arms quickly. Keith tried to talk again, and finally realized why he couldn't. 

"S—s—so c—" Keith shivered, "It was so—so cold."

"It's okay," Shiro mumbled, his voice low and comforting, "We've got you now, you're going to be fine."

Pidge whistled behind him. "This pod isn't insulated, it's just air-tight."

"We almost didn't make it in time," Hunk whispered in awe, "We got the coordinates hours ago. How long was Keith out there?"

"Not long," Shiro answered. Keith could feel his voice in his chest. "He wouldn't have been able to make it for longer than a few minutes. We got very, very lucky."

Keith pushed himself into Shiro's body, trying to comfort him. 

"Oh, Keith," Hunk mourned, dropping to his knees. 

Keith could feel Hunk's warm body against his back. Pidge kicked her way between the two men, making a space for herself. Keith's laugh was breathless.

"It—it wasn't me," Keith shivered. 

His friends made room for him as he tried to sit up. He dropped his hand and winced against the light.

"Don't," Shiro warned him, "Not yet."

Keith nodded. He placed his hands on Shiro's biceps for balance and rested his head against Shiro's chest. 

"It was Lance," Keith explained.

"Lance?" Hunk gasped. 

Keith sobbed, remembering his conversation with Lance. "He let me go."

"Good," Pidge's voice was choked up, "It wasn't for nothing."

Keith fought his way back up. He opened his eyes. The light was painful, but Keith managed to adjust. "Where's Allura? Is she okay?"

"She's a healing pod. Coran is getting us out of here," Pidge explained, "We weren't sure if your message—or Lance's message—was a trap."

Keith sighed with relief. "Lance was worried about her, I don't know why."

"She was injured," Shiro explained, "She fought Haggar—and Lotor."

"She was right there," Pidge growled, "She  _ saw _ Lance, but we couldn't get any more details out of her before Coran rushed her into the pod." 

Keith felt his heart sink. His last memories were of the infiltration, he couldn't even begin to imagine what everyone had been going through without him.

"Thank you for coming to get me," he finally said. 

"Always, Keith," Hunk promised, "It's been so long... it must've been awful."

Keith blinked, trying again to fill the empty space in his head. He could feel Shiro's gaze on him.

"I can't remember any of it, Lance wiped my memories."

"He... what?" Pidge asked, "Keith, what is going on?"

Keith tightened his grip on Shiro. "He said to be ready."

"What do you mean?" Shiro asked.

"He said he'll be here. He's coming."

Pidge and Hunk exchanged hopeful glances, but their expressions were etched with concern and doubt. 

"He said he'll see us soon." 

Pidge squeezed his hand. "Then we're going to be ready."

Keith squeezed her hand back, falling into Shiro's embrace and closing his eyes. 


End file.
